The Installed Intelligence Trilogy Collection

by Phoenix Ward

  Beth felt her face grow hot. “Simon” was trying to get under her skin, and she hated to admit it, but it was working. She wanted nothing more than to bash his smug robotic face into a dented pile of junk, but she couldn’t act. Not yet.

  “Then why did you need me?” she asked. Her voice was drained of emotion. “If your victory was so secure and you locked Tarov out, what was the point of all this? Of the failsafe?”

  “Partly because the A.I. was built to be an adaptive program and he was certainly working on a plan B to stop me,” the I.I. continued. “But mostly because there’s a good way and a bad way to win a war. Even though the I.I.s’ victory was virtually guaranteed, that didn’t mean life for us would be pleasant afterward. In order to have a clean victory in which I.I.s could live peacefully, I had to make sure Tarov’s secret remained buried forever. No one could learn that he was actually an artificial intelligence. They had to believe in his cause, and that wouldn’t happen if they knew he wasn’t really an installed intelligence. It’s why I compelled you to find Dr. Silvar. My people picked him up the day after we left Fort Leddy. He’s dead.”

  Beth felt a tug at her chest at the words. She took a couple steps backward, like the news had been an actual blow to her person. Had she only brought misery wherever she went? Was no one spared the consequences of her company?

  “It’s why I told Dr. Miller you needed help at the Fog house. It’s why I had you come to this bunker and delete Tarov himself. And it’s why I’m going to have to kill you. The secret must die here if the future’s going to be bright for anyone.”

  Through the fog of emotion and shock that clouded her thoughts, Beth managed to find a moment of clarity.

  “Then this is it,” she said. “Only one of us walks out of here.”

  She reached back without looking and felt something on the workbench just behind her. With a swish that cut the air, she brought the cyberblade up in front of her.

  Martyr

  A laugh emitted from the bodyshell.

  “Like you said, Beth,” the I.I. started, “it’s already over.”

  “It’s not over until I delete you,” the detective replied, brandishing the cyberblade. A glow of neon turquoise came from the weapon’s edge, casting a bit of light on Beth’s serious features.

  “You’re welcome to try if you like,” the I.I. in Tarov’s bodyshell sneered.

  With a roar, Beth charged forth, the tip of her sword leading the way. “Simon” sidestepped out of the way, then brought his fist across the side of her face.

  It hurt more than she was prepared for. Because Tarov’s bodyshell had been designed to look human, she forgot about the steel mechanical bits just under the machine’s thin imitation skin. The pain radiated through her skull and her jaw felt like it started to swell instantly.

  She swiped for the bodyshell’s neck, but Tarov ducked and barreled towards her, tackling her to the hard floor.

  Beth heard a clack on the floor as the air was knocked out of her lungs. Looking over, she saw her handgun skid over the concrete, spinning to a stop just out of arm’s reach.

  The I.I. noticed her gaze and followed it. With a powerful lunge, he grabbed the weapon and raised it to eye level. Beth used the moment to roll over and stand back on her feet. Before the bodyshell’s nimble finger could pull the trigger, Beth used her upward momentum to strike out with her cyberblade. She missed the hulking mechanical man, but sliced the gun in half right at the trigger.

  Surprise showed itself on the robotic features and Beth couldn’t help but feel a little proud. The I.I. didn’t waste any time. It threw the handle of the ruined gun at Beth — who narrowly dodged it — before spinning around and dashing towards one of the other workbenches. Beth took a step back, got a running start, and leaped at the bodyshell feet first. “Simon” managed to peek over his shoulder just in time to watch Beth kick him into the workbench. A number of things went clattering to the floor from the desk’s surface. He lost his balance and tumbled to the ground.

  The detective sprung on him like a panther. She pinned him to the concrete with her knees while she fumbled with her sword. He bucked and fought under her, trying to push her off, but she clung on persistently. Just as she was about to bring the blade up into a position she could strike from, the I.I. reached towards something and brought it down hard on Beth’s left thigh. At first, she thought he just punched her with his closed fist. When she looked down, however, she saw the hilt of a knife protruding from her leg. Before she could really process what happened to her, the bodyshell ripped the blade out of her and pushed her off of him. He rose to his feet.

  Blood seeped out of the wound in Beth’s thigh. She screamed in agony as the first sensation from the attack reached her brain. Instinctively, she clutched onto the injury, trying to keep the blood from seeping out of her pant leg and onto the floor. Looking once more through the blindness of pain, she thought it looked like her femoral artery had been cut. There was too much blood otherwise.

  With a strained yell, Beth made an upward swipe at the bodyshell from the position on her knees. Before he could take more than a step away, her sword went through what would be the I.I.’s hamstring if he was an organic human. The attack still served its purpose: Tarov was unable to move that leg anymore. He started to turn around to counter her, but Beth made another slash before he could. That one took off the other leg. The bodyshell came crashing down to the ground.

  The pain was almost blinding, but Beth pushed through it and rose to her feet. Keeping the cyberblade low and pointed away from her, she shuffled a couple feet until she was right in front of the heap of metal and plastic that was once Tarov’s personal bodyshell.

  “Simon” raised one of his robotic hands, as if to fend off any more blows. He growled.

  “It doesn’t matter what you do at this point,” he said. “The future is sealed. The I.I.s will win the war one way or another. It’s just up to you what kind of world is built on these ashes. Will you lose gracefully, or go off into the dark kicking and screaming?”

  “You were in my head,” Beth said through clenched teeth. “I shared my body with you for months. I trusted you.”

  “And I betrayed you,” the I.I. said. “That’s what you were going to say. And it’s true. But you’re putting too much emotion into the matter. To me, you were nothing but a vehicle. A means to an end. It’s pointless to take offense. You’ll see — if you survive. You’ll learn what it’s like to become a second-class citizen. To live under the domination of a superior species. Perhaps you’ll become an oddity: one of the last of a dying race. If they’re merciful, the new I.I. government might even make it illegal to kill you like people tried to do with the white rhino.” He laughed.

  Beth put the tip of the sword just under the bodyshell’s chin.

  “It’s the age of the I.I., Beth,” he said. “You may as well get used to that now. It’ll make life a lot easier for you. Before long, organic humanity will be a relic of the past. Phased out by Darwinism. Then, maybe one day, we can lose our power to a new, more superior species. It’s how progress is made, you know. The war is already over, don’t you see? Killing me will only create a martyr. It will only make our cause stronger.”

  Beth ground her teeth a little. Her eyes locked onto the bodyshell, burning like eternal coals.

  “I don’t care,” Beth said. “You killed my brother. You destroyed my life. Now die.”

  “Simon” opened his mouth to say something else, but Beth had already brought the cyberblade down onto the bodyshell’s scalp. His mouth hung open while a sporadic burst of sparks emerged from the cleave in his artificial skull. Beth lifted the sword, then slashed back down. It cut all the way into the bodyshell’s sternum, where it lodged itself. A whining sound creeped out from the machine’s speaker, fading into silence. The lights went out.

  Defeat

  Beth managed to get the autolock on the bunker’s door to release, and the way out slid open. After the hatch finished opening its
tall maw, the glow of natural sunlight fell into the bunker’s display floor. With a lot of effort and some pained grunting, she limped out of the structure and into the fresh air. She took a deep breath of the forest scent before dropping her cyberblade. It made a small clang as it bounced off a rock on the ground.

  She let it lay where it fell and continued shuffling away from the door. Everything hurt — her leg — her face — her pride — even her heart. It was almost too much to bear. She just wanted to collapse in on herself and give up, to lie on the forest floor until the elements took her, leaving nothing behind but her skeleton and some mulch.

  For the first time since they were attacked by Rubik, Beth was alone. No one could see into her mind anymore.

  It’s all my fault, she thought to herself. Humanity will lose the war, like “Simon” said. And it will all be because of my involvement. If I had just turned down the case — gone on a vacation somewhere quiet — none of this would have happened. Tarov would have stopped the Liberators before they were able to amass any kind of power. My brother might still be a drug addict, but he’d be alive. So many people would be.

  After several minutes of slow shuffling and agonized hobbling, Beth made it to the edge of a steep drop that led farther into the valley. The sky was starting to turn a dull blue-gray. The sun was about to rise.

  Beth lowered herself to the ground, still holding onto the wound in her leg. Blood seeped out a little as she tried to maintain pressure on it. She cut most of her pant leg off to make a tourniquet and a small bundle of cloth to absorb the blood. With some effort, she took a seat under one of the pine trees that overlooked the valley.

  I’m the worst person to ever live, she told herself. Worse than any warlord or tyrant. I didn’t just cause the deaths of countless people — I caused the downfall of a species. Religions will probably call me the Antichrist for many generations to come — if there even are any more generations.

  Beth couldn’t help but feel her chest well up a little as she thought about the future to come. The children yet to be born who will know nothing of the days when humans controlled the planet. They would be raised in a world of fear — a world of pain. All because of her and the war she helped start.

  Things will never be the same, Beth realized.

  That frightened her.

  The light was starting to get too bright to look at. Any minute now and the sun would peek out between the two cliff faces it hid behind.

  Gazing out, Beth noticed a plume of smoke stretching into the sky. She followed it down with her eyes and came to the conclusion that it came from behind one of the ledges, a few miles away. The smoke entranced her as she sat there, feeling her skin grow a little colder with each passing minute.

  Is it the smoke of some human settlement — a city or a town maybe — burning under the orders of some bloodthirsty I.I. rebel? she wondered. Perhaps it’s from a funeral pyre as people say their final farewells to loved ones claimed by the war. Or maybe it’s from a campfire, around which a group of survivors swap stories and hopeful songs.

  She couldn’t tell which it was at that distance.

  The sun rose over the valley.

  III

  DELETED

  Humanity lost the war. When installed intelligences rose up and challenged their organic counterparts for global dominance, mankind was knocked down a peg. It was all based on a lie, but the lie died, buried in the ashes of the past.

  A generation has passed since the war. Humans are forced into slums and ghettos while all the power is hoarded by a council of malevolent I.I.s. Anger and resentment are growing around the globe, particularly in a place called Shell City — and it’s not just among hu

  Preface

  Humanity lost the war. When installed intelligences rose up and challenged their organic counterparts for global dominance, mankind was knocked down a peg. It was all based on a lie, but the lie died, buried in the ashes of the past.

  A generation has passed since the war. Humans are forced into slums and ghettos while all the power is hoarded by a council of malevolent I.I.s. Anger and resentment are growing around the globe, particularly in a place called Shell City — and it’s not just among humans.

  This is the third act of the Installed Intelligence saga.

  Slumside

  All that training, and Tera was still getting taken by surprise. She had spent over eight years in the academy and four years preparing for the Shell City Human Liaison program. She racked up thousands of hours of combat training, situational awareness, and intuition honing. Every grade she got secured her place at the top of her class and she had countless recommendations from her instructors. Still, none of it prepared her for the unpredictable nature of the average slum dweller.

  Abenayo, her training officer, didn’t seem as perturbed. She was leading the chase while Human Liaison Officer Tera Alvarez lagged behind. Tera’s mechanical legs pumped over the cobbled pavement while the top half of her tried to regain its balance.

  Her government-issued bodyshell, the robotic body that her consciousness occupied, managed to correct her balance in the blink of an eye. She started bounding after the man who had just turned to flee down one of the side alleys, passing her partner.

  Tera was only twenty, practically a baby in terms of the average lifespan of an installed intelligence. Still, she was raised in the city’s police training program. She had as much ability and training as any of the more seasoned officers. That’s what her transcripts said, at least. She didn’t feel like an elite crime-stopping machine when she missed the turn into the alley, or when Abenayo pushed past her to regain the lead.

  “Get away from me!” the perp bellowed. He knocked an overflowing dumpster on its side, trying to slow down the pursuit of the two bodyshells. Abenayo turned right slightly and ran against the side of the wall, over the obstruction. Tera leapt over it and used the momentum to close in behind the fleeing slum dweller.

  The perp’s offense — or “alleged” offense, as her training termed it — wasn’t even a serious one. All he had done was fail to show up to court for a charge of domestic abuse and narcotics possession. Even then, they would have just locked him away and forced him to attend his hearing. He ran, however. He refused the orders of his I.I. superiors — officers of the law, at that. He was looking at some serious time now. He might even be sent to the camps. No wonder he ran with such fervor.

  Abenayo rammed her way through a small group of humans, scattering them in the alley as she followed the perp out onto the street. Tera almost stopped to help the pedestrians back up, but knew better. She was being watched — by Abenayo — by unseen eyes around her. They were assessing her performance now that she was out in the field. If she wanted to impress, she had to focus on the task at hand. The fleeing criminal, and nothing else.

  They’re just slum scum, she had to remind herself. They’re not important.

  That was the hardest part of being a human liaison officer, she discovered: closing her heart off to those that she can’t help, and those she’s not assigned to. She was there to keep Slumside from breaking out in chaos and nothing more.

  She sprinted out onto the street just behind her training partner and turned sharp after their target. Her outstretched metal and polymer arm kept her from running headfirst into a self-driving cart wagon. The slum dweller couple in the archaic thing’s cab shouted obscenities at her as she darted past them and into a street market. Her synthetic hair whipped through the air as she ran.

  “Halt!” Abenayo yelled at the perp as he started weaving between the market stands. He looked back at them, panic in his bloodshot eyes.

  “Fuck you!” he shouted back.

  Tera managed to catch up to her partner as they avoided the displays of handmade trinkets, inferior produce, and attire that no self-respecting I.I. would find themselves in. People cursed and spat at them as the commotion moved through the marketplace.

  “Cut around to the other side,” Abenayo instructed the rook
ie, pointing to the south side of the street. “We can surround him.”

  Tera nodded before bursting into motion. There were only a few market stands between her and the side of the street her partner indicated. She dived over the last one, to the disapproval of its occupant. In the corner of her optical receivers, she saw the perp fleeing with reckless abandon down the street across from her. Abenayo’s gray and blue form rushed after him, and Tera ducked into the alley that connected her street to theirs. If she was fast enough, she could head the guy off right where the alley ended.

  More shouting and cries of annoyance bled from around the buildings on her left. She was cutting it close. Bowing her head, she tried to pick up the pace.

  She dove just as she ran out of the alley, her arms outstretched. If her calculations were correct, the criminal would be sprinting by just in time for her to snatch him.

  Her prediction was right, but it didn’t factor in the reaction time of a drug-addled slum dweller.

  He managed to duck just under her reach as she went soaring over his head and into the side of a stucco apartment building. Her heavy robotic body knocked a dent into the poorly constructed dwelling, but she didn’t have time to see if she had damaged anything inside. Without delay, she rebounded on all fours and picked herself back up into a full sprint. Abenayo darted past her.

  Taken by surprise again, she noted.

  “You wanna die?” Abenayo shouted after the junkie. “Stop now or I’m putting you down!”

  He kept running as if he hadn’t heard her. Tera knew he had, however. His pace became over eighty-percent more erratic after the threat. She was even detecting a quickening in his pulse. The poor guy’s heart sounded like it would give out any second.