“They’re fine. Mostly. Some of them are a little fragile at the moment.”
6. Iokan
Iokan woke in the centre, in his old room, set to a standard bedroom layout. He hadn’t bothered to recreate the old settings. He hadn’t shown any interest in anything, not even the terrible news from Ardëe, or my announcement to the group that they would need to move to Hub Metro soon. He slept, rose in the morning, put on his robes, ate whatever food was put in front of him, went to the toilet, but otherwise stared at the wall.
Today, he rose and looked out the window. The snow was thick this year, and the evergreens wore white as far as the eye could see. The buses and trucks and fliers that brought in the work crews and their equipment grew snowy beards after only minutes on the ground, and had to melt them away before they left. For once, you could see a good distance; the centre had been wrapped in fog and blizzards for more than a week. But today the only clouds were those spiked on the mountains.
Iokan dressed, left his room and headed downstairs. On hearing a troop of new staff being taken on an orientation tour, he turned away and found another way down, twisting and turning his route through the building to avoid people. Pew was in the gym, slamming angrily at weights, and did not see Iokan sneak through. Kwame was in the kitchen enjoying a meal that didn’t consist of freeze-dried emergency rations, and failed to hear Iokan’s footsteps pass the door. Olivia fretted in the common room, writing on an antique paper pad with an ink pen and crossing out everything she wrote almost as soon as she read it. She never knew that Iokan passed by, heading for the exit, wearing no coat, no thermals, no boots. The centre’s systems knew where he was, but he had done nothing yet to endanger himself or others, so they stayed silent.
The snow was half a metre deep, and paths had been carved between the buildings. Iokan found his way to the edge of the compound and headed into the woods, crunching sandals on fresh snow. The only life there was the forest itself; insects had fled or died or burrowed deep into the soil as winter came, and there were no mammals or birds to trouble the plantlife.
He came out the other side onto a frozen, snow-buried meadow, just as the weather was changing. Clouds had raced in from the mountains and visibility was back down to less than a hundred metres. The sun was just a vague glow and the air temperature fell even further.
He didn’t care. He looked about; he was still alone. He took off his robes and stood naked in the snow, waiting for whatever might come.
7. Elsbet
“I just popped in to see how you were, really,” I said.
“I’m fine and my fingers are fine,’ said Elsbet, with another sidelong glance at the despised neurologist. “You’re not going, are you?”
“I have to pick up Liss soon. She’s having a meeting in town. You should carry on with the therapy. I’ll be in touch.”
“Oh! Before you go, let me show you something!”
She took my hand to pull me away. I looked back at the long suffering neurologist, who shrugged his permission. So I let her take me down through the hospital, past all the porters and nurses moving patients and equipment, clearing beds and stocking up on supplies, down a gravity tube and out to a glass-walled common area looking out on a patch of nature bounded by the structure of the building: trees bursting with the red and gold of autumn, reaching higher than the hospital itself.
Elsbet shuddered for a moment after we stepped out of the gravity tube. The sky was still a shock for her, but she took a breath and clung to me.
“Are you sure you want to be here?” I asked.
She nodded, fervently. “It’s not really open. There’s a glass dome.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!” She pulled me to the glass doors, scooting around other patients and furniture, and paused at the exit, building up her nerve again, then led me outside.
She gasped as the warm sun struck her. The shaking came to a stop; she looked up at the sky, closed her eyes and smiled. I let her go and she spread her arms to catch more of the sun.
She looked over at me, her arms still wide, as if to say: look what I can do!
“Aren’t you afraid?” I asked.
“Yes!” she cried. “But feel the sun…”
“We’re much closer than the asteroid where you grew up.”
“It’s so warm… I can feel it through my clothes! Did they do something to me?”
“I don’t think so. But I’m glad you’re happy.”
She did a delighted twirl, laughing.
8. Iokan
Iokan stood naked in the snow. He tried to accept the cold, but his body’s natural responses refused: his muscles spasmed in shivering waves, his teeth chattered, his skin grew pale and grey as warmth fled.
The fog thickened, and the sun faded from a patch of light to nothing at all; just the general glow of the sky.
The shivering wracked his body until he could bear it no longer and had to hug his arms close and gasp at the cold. Frost spread through his hair, and the moisture on his skin froze, coating him in rime, chilling him further. He fell to his knees. In this kind of temperature, he had less than an hour to live.
A light bathed him from above.
It was not the sun. The fog was as thick as before. It was something shining down on him with more than just illumination: there was a warmth that was blessed relief to his frosted skin. He rubbed meltwater from his eyes and looked up.
The glow was close, from no source he could see, like another sun come near. The warmth allowed him to stand up again. He shielded his eyes; it was brighter now, almost too much. But he did his best to look into the heart of the light.
“You came back for me,” he said.
He closed his eyes and spread his arms wide.
“I’m ready.”
9. Iokan & Elsbet
As Elsbet soaked up the sun, a chime went off in my ear and an emergency message flashed in front of my eyes.
“I’ll just be a moment,” I said to Elsbet, and took a few steps away. I fished a pad out of my bag and put the video through.
Iokan stood naked in the snow, arms stretched out, a beatific look on his face. I sighed. He’d done what we feared and attempted suicide. Nevertheless, it gave me a chance to talk to him.
“Iokan,” I said. “It’s Asha here.” He opened his eyes, surprised and confused. “We sent a rescue drone out after you. It’s very cold out there.”
“Show yourself!”
A beam of light jumped out of the glow and struck the fog surrounding the hole melted by the warmth. It displayed the image from the camera in my pad: me, in a garden, looking concerned.
He suddenly realised what had happened, and closed his eyes with a sigh. The rescue drone was providing a sunny microclimate to keep him alive. The light and warmth were just that — nothing more.
“What did you think was happening, Iokan?”
He looked tired, but not embarrassed; just worn out on a level deeper than the body. “I thought she’d come for me.”
“She can’t do that, Iokan. She’s not even in this universe. And she won’t come for you. You remember what she said as well as I do.”
He didn’t answer. He looked away.
“Iokan?”
He shook his head, despairing. I feared we would lose him to a bout of depression, and didn’t notice Elsbet sneaking up and looking over my shoulder. “Well hello there…” she said, suddenly seeing the image of a very naked Iokan.
He looked back up at the ghostly video image projected into the fog. “Who was that?”
“This is private,” I snapped at her. Too harsh, and I regretted it instantly.
She didn’t care. She waved merrily at the pad. “Hi there, Iokan! Remember me?”
He looked up, confused. “Katie?”
“No!” she cried. “It’s me!’
His eyes went wide. “Elsbet…?”
“That’s the one!”
“You came back…”
She grinned at me. “Oh
, he’s clever, isn’t he?” She looked back at him, and his naked body. “Bloody hell, did I really turn you down?”
Iokan looked down at himself, and quickly hid his genitals.
“Okay, Elsbet, I think that’s enough, don’t you?”
“Aw…” she backed off with a disappointed pout. I looked back at Iokan.
“I’m sorry about that.”
“I’m glad she’s well. Did she have the treatment?”
“She did.”
He nodded. “Good.”
“The medical staff will be with you in a moment. Do you think you’ll be able to sit down and have a chat once you’re inside?”
He paused, and I thought for a moment he would withdraw again. But then he looked up at me and said, “I will.”
10. Iokan
Iokan sat in the remote meeting room, swaddled in blankets, sipping at a warm drink and looking introspective. Not depressed, though certainly tired. I activated the link between the centre and the room I was in at the hospital. “How are you doing?” I asked.
“Well enough,” he said.
“Do you mind if I sit down?”
“How could I?”
“Thank you.” I took one of the seats next to him.
“How did Elsbet come back?” he asked.
“You remember how Katie attempted suicide? Well, we had to do a lot of reconstruction work on her brain. I suppose whatever neural issue set off the change in the first place did the same thing again. When she woke up, she was Elsbet… and Elsbet agreed to the treatment.”
“You refused her before.”
“With all the brain damage, we couldn’t be sure if the change was permanent. We, ah, erred on the side of caution.”
He absorbed that with a nod. “Will Katie come back?”
“Probably not. It’s hard to tell, though.”
“You don’t like to let us go, do you?”
“We would have, in your case. But it wasn’t up to us. Szilmar made that choice.”
He put his head in his hands. “I still don’t understand…”
“I know it’s difficult. But if you’re willing to listen, there’s more I can tell you.” He looked up. “Szilmar had a long discussion with the Diplomatic Service. She gave us a rough outline of what happened.”
He closed his eyes and looked away. I went on.
“It seems the Antecessors were escaping from attacks on your world, three thousand years ago. They made a lot of enemies — you were right when you said they weren’t very nice people. At the time, your species had gone beyond the human form. But there was a fashion for dressing up in human bodies from time to time, and when the attacks came, a lot of people were trapped in those bodies. Those were your ancestors. Some of the others chose to escape using energy forms that were meant for interstellar travel. But they hadn’t had time to set up colonies, and there weren’t any machines out there to turn them back. So they were stuck in those forms, and they weren’t designed for long term use. Over the centuries, entropy took a toll, and by the time they came back, they were like children looking for someone else to play with. They didn’t understand that what they were doing was wrong.”
He was quiet for a long time, eyes still closed.
“I can give you the report to study, if you like.”
He opened his eyes again, and there were tears welling up in them. But he wiped them away and spoke. “Was it all… artificial?”
“What you felt about the Antecessors was real. But the way they started it was artificial, yes.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know what I’m… I…”
“It might take some time for you to come to terms with it. I think you still have some therapy to do.”
He put his head in his hands and sighed.
“But there’s something for you to think about.”
He looked up from his palms.
“The Antecessors, the new ones, are in discussions with the IU to see if we can help them rebuild your world. It’ll take time, with everything that’s happening at the moment. But we think we can give them back their bodies.”
There were tears in his eyes.
“And not just the adults. It’ll be harder, but we think we can bring back the children as well. Even the very youngest.”
And then he couldn’t control himself at all. His chin trembled and sobs came out.
“You’re not alone.”
11. Elsbet
After seeing Iokan, I decided I ought to look in on Elsbet again. I found her in her room, having lunch, with copious dessert: a sweet pudding smothered in syrup.
“This is incredible!” she said with her mouth full. “D’you want some?”
“I’m fine, thanks,” I said.
“Can’t anyway. It’s all mine.” She crammed in another mouthful. “Why does it taste so good?”
“Brand new tastebuds. Whatever you did to them in your old life, that’s gone now.”
“Balls. We didn’t have anything like this in general population, or the army. Only sugar we got was pills to keep us going…”
“You should be careful, you know. You don’t want to get overweight.”
“Who cares?” She licked her spoon to get every last trace from it.
“What kind of food did they have in the asteroids?”
Her look soured. “Fucking algae. Grew it in tanks, then they put flavour on it. Nothing like this.”
“You didn’t like living there, did you?”
“Nobody likes living there. Fucking machines.”
“What do you think will happen now they’re gone?”
She shrugged. “We were supposed to go back to Earth, so that’s not happening. I don’t know. Maybe they’ll build some proper space stations.”
“Was it so bad because you had to hide from the machines?”
“Course it was.”
“And you think it’ll get better now they’re gone?”
“Bound to.”
I nodded. “There might be a problem.” She put her spoon down and looked at me. “Katie told us a lot about how things went from the machines’ point of view…”
“She was lying. They always lie to us.”
“I don’t think so. You see, one of the things she said was that they sent expeditions to other star systems. It took decades for them to get there. But sooner or later they’re going to find out what happened. And when they do, they’re going to head back. There’s going to be another war. A Fourth Machine War.”
She didn’t answer.
“The Diplomatic Service wanted Katie to help prevent that war.”
Still no answer.
“Elsbet?”
She set her jaw. “I’m not going back.”
“You don’t have to, I’m not saying that—”
“I am not going back!”
“That’s fine—”
She flung her dessert aside and burst out of bed.
“You can’t send me back. I’ve done my mission!”
“I understand—”
She grabbed me by the jacket. Not threatening but pleading.
“Do you know what they’ll do to me? They will kill me. As a traitor. Because of what she did!”
“Elsbet—”
“I’m not going back! To that — hole!” The tears were coming now. “You can’t send me back. I won’t go.”
I pulled her close and held her. She let go of my jacket and sobbed into my shoulder.
“I’m not going back there… I don’t want to live like that…”
“It’s okay,” I said. “You can stay here. We won’t make you do anything.”
I held onto her, smelling the sweet sugar of the syrup as she clung to me.
12. Liss
Liss’s request to have a meeting with a Quillian consular official had been considered by the Diplomatic Service, and approved with minor restrictions. The duty of care and anonymity limited the choice of venues, and the availability of the consular official in question reduced
them still further. So it took place in the Diplomatic Service General Negotiation Complex, where the most stringent precautions could be observed on ground that was absolutely guaranteed to be neutral.
Quite why it needed to look like an ancient temple garden was another question entirely, but the structure of marble pillars, lintels, arches and fountains did produce a calming effect. The individual ‘meeting rooms’ were the spaces around fountains in the temple complex, apparently open to the elements but only because the ceilings showed pictures of the sky on a sunny day with friendly clouds and never a hint of rain to trouble the negotiations. The rooms could have tables and chairs if the parties wished, but most people were encouraged to sit by a fountain, usually with a refreshment tray by their side.
Liss waited in one of these rooms, looking around. She ran a finger across the marble to feel the texture (very accurate), put a hand in the fountain to see if the water was real (definitely), and examined the flowering vines (not real at all, though it was hard to tell).
She was distracted by a chime from the entrance to the ‘room’, and the air rippled as a Mediator emerged from the corridor beyond. The illusion of being alone in an empty garden was nothing more than that: an illusion.
“I’m sorry about the wait,” said the Mediator, a man with a charming smile and an apology for every occasion. “The other party says he was delayed and conveys his apologies. I understand the present situation on Ardëe is the cause.”
Liss smiled her understanding. “I suppose he’s a busy man, huh?”
The Mediator nodded. “He should be here in just a few minutes. Is there anything else I can get you?”
“No. I’m fine.”
The Mediator withdrew through the rippling air. Liss checked the control pad for the room. She found a setting to change the time of day, thought about it for a moment, and slid it over to ‘night’. The sun faded and dimpled until it turned into the moon. The sky darkened to indigo. Stars revealed themselves and even the wash of the Milky Way became visible. Oil lamps flickered into life on the columns around the fountain.
The Last Man on Earth Club Page 53