by Phoenix Ward
“So do I,” Martin added.
“We even used some of those resources to break you out of your cyber-prison,” Betsy told Ethan.
“Why though?” Ethan asked, processing it all. “Why do you need me?”
Gauge and the Clevinger’s shared a glance with each other. Ethan felt distinctly like he was being left out of an inside joke.
“Not only would you make an excellent soldier because of the muscle and reflex training the simpod provided for you,” Martin said through the speaker in his wife’s head, “but you’d be a perfect mascot for recruitment.”
“A perfect mascot?”
“People would be terribly upset if they knew what the Council was doing to you and your friends,” Betsy said. “You probably don’t know this, but you were being grown to be Councilman Harring’s next meat puppet. He was planning to walk around in you like a suit. With your story, it will be hard to resist joining us.”
“So I’m some kind of promotional tool?” Ethan asked.
“No, but that is the icing on the cake,” Betsy said. “What we really need you for is whatever might be kept in that brain of yours. If you’d allow us, we’d like to take a few harmless scans to see if what we’re looking for is there.”
“And what are you looking for?”
“We don’t know just yet,” Marvin replied. “We think that, if Councilman Harring was raising your body for himself, he may have planted some information in you, deep in your subconscious. Something that would be useful to him if he were in possession of your body, and may prove useful to us as well in the fight against him.”
“What do you say?” Gauge asked.
Ethan wished there was someone nearby he could converse with. Someone he could bounce ideas off, like he used to do with Sharpe. Now, he was all alone. There was no one to lean on. He had to trust himself to trust someone else.
“Harmless scans, you say?” he wanted to clarify. The last thing he wanted was to escape possible lobotomy only to have his brain damaged by his rescuers.
“Of course,” Marvin replied. “It’s just a hunch, anyway.”
“Now, dear, our guest here is probably pretty tired,” Betsy said, seemingly to herself. She eyed Ethan. “And hungry.”
“Right, right,” her husband replied through the speaker. “I sometimes forget those kinds of things. Gauge, would you please show Ethan to his quarters? Make sure to bring him as much food and water as he likes, and give him a bath. Tell the others that he’s not to be disturbed until he’s had his rest, understand?”
“You got it, boss,” Gauge said. He looked to the teenager. “You ready to get pampered, pal?”
Ethan simply nodded. There was still that nagging voice in his head that doubted everything around him. He was too tired to listen to it, or any other voices for that matter, however. All he could think about was food.
It will be my first meal, he realized. Ever.
The impact of the thought hit him like a punch in the gut, and he needed a moment before he could continue with Gauge to the makeshift quarters they put together for him.
His first day awake in the real world was far from how he pictured it.
Outside
A month flew by, which Tera spent in relative solitude. They had confiscated her old police-issued bodyshell and plugged her into a hard storage facility. It functioned like a closed network — the prisoners could interact with each other if they so wished, but their connection to the outside world was severed.
Tera kept to herself, for the most part. There were a few prisoners there who she liked and considered decent folks, but Tera didn’t fraternize with them when she didn’t have to. There was no chow line in a digital prison, no yard. She had a lot of time to herself.
She didn’t feel like she belonged, which helped add to the feeling of isolation that consumed her. All the other prisoners — even the nice ones — each earned his or her place in the prison. They had done things to get themselves in trouble, even committed crimes that hurt people. She had not. She was innocent, but no one would believe her. She felt like an impostor of the worst kind, and would find no sympathy for it.
During that month, former Human Liaison Officer Tera Alvarez had some time to think. She played the moment when the E.M.P. bomb went off over and over in her head. She could still see Abenayo inches away from the raider who had been in charge of the ambush. The crackling of the electricity, the fading of her vision. It was all like some horrible reel show she could keep rewinding and starting over again.
Then the day of the battle between the raiders and the Council soldiers occupied her thoughts. Everything the boss man had told her — everything she was able to discern — pointed to the truth. She didn’t see why the raider would lie to her. The E.M.P. had somehow been powerful enough to erase her identity but not delete her. She couldn’t help but wonder if it was intentional.
You’re being paranoid, she found herself thinking. There isn’t some conspiracy around you.
That didn’t stop her from being suspicious, however. The first thing she had learned in the academy was that not everything is what it seems to be. From the outside, it looked like a long run of bad luck, but she felt like there was more to it. There had to be.
After her month had been served, she was released. They gave her a spare bodyshell they had for just such an occaision. It was as low-end as they come. No weapon attachments or armor, naturally. She found that it even lacked a basic heads up display. It was as if someone had carved out a metal puppet for her to live in.
Along with the inferior bodyshell, she was granted a one-way autobus ticket into Slumside. She had no idea where she would go when she got there.
The ride was a dismal one. It was raining outside, so Tera could see nothing beyond the water stained windows.
Shame, she thought. I would have liked to see the Pavilion once more before I’m exiled to the slums forever.
She knew that’s where the prison was. It had to be the Pavilion, guessing by the bus stop she had waited at. Everything was so clean and pristine. Like it was built brand new. That kind of care only existed in places where I.I.s alone lived. It was easy to keep places clear of litter when there were no snacks to eat, no wrappers to abandon, and no waste to produce.
When Tera arrived in Slumside, she started to walk around. Without realizing it, she started to take the same route she would on patrol with Abenayo. It was as if instinct drove her, or perhaps she just wanted the comfort of something routine. Something familiar.
The faces were less angry and the people less disheveled than she remembered. In fact, some even seemed pleasant and kindly. Handsome and beautiful. Had it always been this way? Or had they become more attractive since she’d been gone?
Perhaps it’s me, she thought.
The slum dwellers weren’t disgusted at her for being a Council cop anymore, because she wasn’t a Council cop. They just saw her as one of their own. Another face in the many. Perhaps thinking that she was going through the same struggle made them less likely to scowl at her.
There were still some people who didn’t seem happy to see her, however.
No matter what your status, there will still be people who hate I.I.s, she thought.
As she continued walking, she started to grow uncomfortable. When she walked through the less populated streets and alleys, she sometimes found someone following close behind. Whenever she cast a glance back at them, she found them staring at her. Sometimes sneering.
She knew they couldn’t hurt her the way they could a human woman, but that didn’t make her want them to follow her. Having patrolled the streets, she had seen what some I.I.-hating humans were capable of. It was important to note that she was just a lowly bodyshell and not a cop; no one would care. Her case would be passed down to some rookie like so many cases had been passed down to her. They were all learning tools — no one expected them to be solved.
She started to miss the smiling faces from earlier.
I gu
ess it doesn’t take long to be disillusioned by the slums, she thought.
Once she was able to shake a few of her stalkers, she looked for someplace to sit. Someplace to call home, she thought.
There was a small deadend alley she found not far from the precinct she once worked at. She figured, of all places in the slum, the safest would be those close to the police station. If for no other reason than that the cops didn’t want dangerous criminals too close to home.
There was a small patch of mud beside one of the alley’s dumpsters that Tera took a seat in. She didn’t care about the filth anymore — her cheap bodyshell wasn’t worth the concern. All she wanted was a safe place to conceal herself so she could enter a low power state. Maybe there was some network adapter option she would find if she dug around in the bodyshell’s settings enough. She doubted it, but it was possible, even for the worst of humanoid machines. If so, then she could start to formulate a plan.
She wasn’t going to stay in the slums. She had to prove who she was and get her old life back.
Then I’ll make some changes from within, she thought. If I was in charge, no one would have to live like this.
A new sense of determination filled her.
That’s what I’ll do. I’ll start a revolution of sorts. Build a new Shell City.
She reached over and grabbed a bit of ragged tarp that was bundled up by the dumpster and draped it over herself. Convinced she was hidden well enough to avoid some street punk messing with her, she entered a low power state.
It was rough going since day one. It was now a week into Tera’s new life as a slum dweller, and she didn’t know how much more she could take. Every day was a constant struggle to move, find a decent place to loiter, and fend off the other slum dwellers.
She grew accustomed to harassment in her short time as a Slumside resident. The men would make rude comments about her and try to intimidate her with their size. She thought of them like posturing apes, beating on their chests. She tried to ignore them, but that only angered them more. The best approach, she found, was just to avoid them altogether. Don’t allow them to get close enough for an altercation.
The children would try to mess with her too, prodding at the panels on her bodyshell when she wasn’t looking. It was like they were playing some weird game where the goal was to cause as many mechanical malfunctions on her person as possible. Fending them off was even harder than the men because they were small, tricky, and persistent. The more she tried to shoo them away, the more interested they became. She hadn’t found a good approach for them just yet.
There was some solace in the other I.I.s who called Slumside their home. They weren’t exactly welcoming, but they were acceptable company when she needed it. They didn’t try to mess with her or intimidate her because they knew what it was like.
As she got to know a few of them, she started to realize the I.l.s trapped in the ghetto might be worse off than the humans. Despite being oppressed, the fleshies had strength in numbers. They fought, of course, but more often than not, humans got along with each other. And together, they hated progs like her.
Tera became friends with one I.I. who offered her things to read in order to kill the ever-present boredom of the ghettos. She found the things he gave her enlightening. They motivated her even more to take action, to change the city around her.
Then, one day, her friend pulled her aside while the other I.I.s played a game of dominoes.
“I know who you are,” he said.
She cocked her painted-on — not synthetic — eyebrow. “What?” she asked.
“You’re that former cop, Tera Alvarez,” he replied. “I know you.”
The female bodyshell stepped back a little, a suspicious expression on her face.
“You’ve seen me on patrol before?” she said.
He nodded.
“And who are you?” she asked.
“My name is Gauge,” he replied. “I want to offer you a chance to redeem yourself. To clear your name and to make sure no one else has to endure the injustice you’ve been subject to. That’s what you want more than anything, isn’t it?”
Tera was shocked. “How do you know these things?”
“I have some connections. In fact, my friends would like to meet you, if you would be interested,” he said. “You’d have to keep it really low key, though.”
She thought for a moment.
“When do they want to meet?” she asked.
Briefing
“Ethan,” Gauge said. “I’d like you to meet our newest recruit.”
The young man turned away from the computer console he was working on and faced the two bodyshells that approached him. He didn’t recognize the mechanical woman Gauge was leading, but that was to be expected. He barely recognized Gauge, and he had seen him every day for the last month or so. To him, a lot of the bodyshells looked alike, so it wasn’t until he actually spoke to them that he could be sure who they were.
“This is Tera Alvarez,” Gauge said, waving towards the feminine bodyshell. “She used to be a police officer for the Council.”
“A cop, eh?” Ethan asked. “How do we know we can trust her?”
Gauge laughed a little. “I assure you, we vet our people, Ethan,” he said. “But thanks for the concern.”
“You don’t look so trustworthy yourself,” Tera said, eying the teenage boy up and down. He was only a year or so younger than her, yet seemed like a child in comparison.
“Ethan here has been helping us understand a whole hell of a lot about the Council’s security systems,” Gauge said. “You see, he’s one of the victims of their meat puppet farm. They kept him in a simulation since he was a baby. He has just as much reason to hate the Council as you do.”
“Must have been nice,” Tera said, “getting to spend all that time in the simulation. That blissful ignorance.”
“Yeah, it was a real treat being lied to my whole life so they could harvest my body like some sort of livestock,” Ethan replied. “I bet being a Council lapdog was more fun, though.”
Tera narrowed her eyes at the teenager. He returned the death glare.
“Well, I knew you two would get along,” Gauge said sarcastically.
Despite his indignation, Ethan couldn’t help but feel like something about Tera was familiar. Not her face or name, of course, but her voice. Like he’d spoken to her once before, briefly, and had since forgotten it.
“Ah, there you are!” a male voice called to them. The three of them turned to the makeshift entrance of the “room”, which was really just a stack of crates placed to form an enclosure not unlike a terrible cubicle. The Clevingers, embodied by the human form of Betsy, appeared around the corner. “All three of you are here! Excellent!”
“I told you they would be, dear,” Betsy said to her husband. “Gauge told us he was taking Tera to meet Ethan an hour ago. My goodness, can an I.I. go senile?”
“If I go senile, it’ll be because of your brain, woman!”
Betsy looked at Tera.
“You see the way he talks to me?” she said.
The female I.I. smiled.
“How can we help you?” Ethan asked, almost like he was the host.
“We might have a job for you, actually,” Marvin said through his wife’s skull. “A mission of diplomacy.”
“Diplomacy?” Tera repeated. “Don’t you think we’re a little under-qualified?”
“Yeah; I’m not a negotiator,” Ethan said.
“I think you two would be perfect diplomats, actually,” Betsy said. “Both of you.”
“Why?” Tera asked.
“Because we need allies and you’re all sympathetic characters,” Martin said. “The more people we can bring into our cause, the better chance we have against the Council. You interested?”
“Who are we meeting with?” Ethan asked.
Betsy turned to him. “As you’ve learned in your time here, there are groups of unimplanted humans who live out in the ‘wild’ areas betwee
n the cities,” she started. “We figure, if anyone would have both the disposition and resources to help us, it might be one of them. That’s why we want to establish relationships with them and try to persuade them to join our cause.”
A look of distrust crossed Tera’s face. “I was attacked by ferals from the wastes,” she said. “I don’t think I want to talk to them again.”
“I understand what you went through, which was terrible,” Betsy started. “These ‘ferals’, as you call them, are from an entirely different group than the one you encountered, though. In fact, there are a great number of these unimplanted tribes out in the world. We want to be friends with as many of them as we can — within reason, of course.”
“Where are you sending them?” Gauge asked. Even though he wasn’t going, it was clear he was interested.
“The Holy Kingdom of Opes,” Martin replied matter-of-factly. “At least, that’s what they call it.”
Everyone looked at the Clevingers with skeptical expressions, as if they weren’t sure they heard things quite right.
“That’s right,” Martin continued. “They are a small nation of religious people who coped with the fall of mankind by turning to spiritual mysticism. We don’t know much about their worship, but we know a lot of their culture revolves around the ‘human spirit’, so to speak. We imagine they would find what was done to Ethan atrocious, which might help our cause.”
“They’re just supposed to trust the story of a stranger?” Ethan asked.
“If we succeed, you won’t be strangers to them,” Betsy explained. “But you’re right; we’ll need evidence to back up our claims. That’s one reason we’ve been scanning your brain as much as we have during the last month or so, Ethan. On top of the tactical advantage it gives us, it also provides us all the evidence we need. They’ll have no reason to doubt you.”
Tera and Ethan looked at each other. Neither could divine what the other was thinking, but there was an uncertainty present in both of them.
“When do we go?” Tera asked. She was thinking of all the preparation she felt she needed.