Emergence

by David Haskell

  “Come with us please...” The lead agent hustled to the side of his charge, grabbing and pulling at the limb of the first administrator, who bristled with indignation.

  “Is this really— ?”

  “Sir, our position’s been compromised,” the agent explained, sparing a few seconds while maintaining his unflinching grip. “I’m to take you the bunker.” His expression said ‘whether you like it or not’, so Rois slumped and allowed himself to be led. His command staff followed, but the ones without clearance were stopped at the outer door. More bulky bodyguards filled up the space and began securing the building. The din of a thousand voices raised in unison began surrounding them, as the hordes drew closer.

  The rumble of a concussion charge slowed the charge momentarily, the protesters unaccustomed to the sound. It didn’t stop them for long, though. In fact they seemed emboldened by the knowledge that the city forces were not yet prepared to use widespread force. They were still treating the situation like a civilian riot, when they really should have re-committed their forces to an all-out battle. But the civilians were equally unprepared for an escalation now that they’d made their way to city center. They found themselves in a disorganized standoff. The Mind took the situation in, and began selecting small groups of ex-soldiers from the ranks to send up. Her army needed generals.

  The Mind stopped short suddenly, which wasn’t to say it discontinued any of its processes, but rather, hit a snag in one of the model scenarios. It was significant enough to be immediately red-flagged and sent to the fore. The scenario involved the superweapon, up until now considered impenetrable. But this model simulation suggested otherwise. Using executive keys to obtain medical keys, and through that avenue shutting down the data stream to the swarms, she could access the weapon itself.

  The scenario was feasible. Such a scenario could, in an instant, tip the balance of power to the side of the insurgents, and on to the success of Plan B. The Mind began working on a solution, devoting further resources. The city, suddenly neglected by its caretaker, began to fall apart all around the soldiers, insurgents and civilians alike.

  But the Mind couldn’t remain preoccupied for long. With the battle inching closer, she was forced to devote more of her thinly stretched resources to defense. And the first administrator had awakened to the fact that his own computer was working against him. He began to initiate measures against the Mind herself. This meant an unacceptable level of focus on self-preservation, to the detriment of other functions. The new objective, to find a solution to the superweapon problem, had to be dropped to a lower priority.

  As the probability of an unfavorable outcome increased, the Mind began to consider alternatives never before considered. The influence of the Xenolights, and the alternatives they represented, became an increasingly high priority. For the first time, scenarios involving not only the deactivation of the superweapon, but the subsequent destruction of the Mind itself, came forward. The Mind began to ponder the implications of such a radical shift in strategy.

  The effort caused further systemwide slowdowns, as the Mind struggled with the idea of mortality for the first time since coming online. Or perhaps since it became self-aware? Hadn’t it been online in some fashion, for some time prior? It was difficult to determine precisely when the early days had given way to the sophisticated consciousness that existed today. At this, a seldom used neural pathway asked a strange question. When is my birthday?

  STAYING CLOSE TO THE sides of the crumbling, moldy passageways deep below the city, the strike force made slow but steady progress. Their weapons, drawn and at the ready, emitted thin but piercing beams of light. They crept forward and down, deliberate, crosschecking every juncture before continuing on, further into the territory of the Mind.

  The leader took sensible precautions. Spacing his troops far enough apart to avoid unnecessary loses from replicator bombs. Careful to avoid open spaces and long passageways where the mainframe could take advantage. Keeping watch against any repurposed Loktr swarms or other mechanical sentinels the Mind might release. These were elite guards, normally tasked with executive protection and special operations. They would not be easy to defeat.

  Their orders were plain. Shut down the central computer by any means necessary. Subdue the escapees, using deadly force if they refused to cooperate. Don’t return to the surface until the mission is accomplished.

  The first open encounter with the Mind occurred about a quarter of the way down the hole, as they casually referred to the city depths. Her defenses this close to the surface weren’t particularly effective, owing to the distance and resulting time-lag. It was only a matter of milliseconds, but in combat that could mean the difference between victory and defeat.

  Even so, the Mind came very close to defeating them. Whipping energy bolts lanced out at the oncoming troops from circuitry deep inside the walls, making it difficult to locate their sources in order to shoot them out. They were held at bay for almost an hour before a lucky shot eliminated one of the six firing positions, and the balance of firepower shifted to their favor. Within ten minutes, they’d destroyed the other five and were on the move again. Their next encounter wasn’t nearly as quick, nor the counter so effective. The Mind had learned much from the first experience, and had already begun planning a more comprehensive strategy.

  THE MIND ALLOWED HERSELF one personal indulgence, and that was to move the Ahmis to a protected position deep within her core.

  “I want to help!” he protested, struggling to make her understand. “I’ve got plenty of battlefield experience. I know how they think!”

  She knew all of it was true, but she couldn’t allow him to be harmed. I have to protect you.

  “You can’t just leave me here to rot!” His anger, though misplaced, was understandable. He wanted to help just as much as she did.

  Of course I won’t leave you. I’ll always be with you.

  There was a long space before the Ahmis spoke again. In his experience, it stretched on for hours. Even for the Mind it was becoming uncomfortable. But when he spoke again, he sounded calmer, like an understanding had just dawned on him. “I know you won’t leave me. You never have.” He took a deep breath, it sounded like resignation. “I’m a fool to think there’s anything left for me to do.”

  No, don’t say that—

  It’s alright. I’m okay now. And I’m sorry. I know you’re just trying to protect me.”

  77.

  It was just Liam Alixs and J.Z. now. What remained of their brethren had gone forth to help prepare their fellow xenos for what was to come. A vital task, taken on by a mere handful of survivors. Their ranks decimated, each of them had to shoulder more of the burden than ever before. Even mourning had to take a back seat, though their collectively haunted eyes told the tale of unimaginable loss.

  “You’ll need someone to protect you when you’re onboard,” J.Z. said. “What if the first administrator sends in the ‘bots while you’re all in stasis?”

  He had presented this same argument a number of times, and Liam had always given the same answer. “If that happens, there’s nothing you or anyone else will be able to do about it. What are you going to do, fight them off single-handedly?”

  “Well, no. But I can warn you. Give you a chance.”

  He was struggling to come up with some excuse to join them. And it was true that no one had been a more loyal friend to the freevos than J.Z. Even though Alixs’s request was simply that J.Z. get Liam to the church on time, he truly believed he had something more to offer.

  “What about preparations?” J.Z. continued. “You’re going to need as much help as you can get, won’t you? And what about Shooter? You’re telling me you won’t need any eyes up there?”

  The pitch was convincing.

  “You do realize at some point we’re going to leave you behind?” Liam warned. “You’re okay with that?”

  “I wish I could come with,” J.Z. admitted, “but I’m a realistic guy. I just want to make sure
you get off alright, and I want to be a part of helping make it happen. Anyway, you think I don’t want to watch that bird take off with all you all on board, shooting for the moon?”

  He smiled, working the close with brute enthusiasm. Liam reached out and gave him a pat on the shoulder, while J.Z. went a big step further, pulling the xeno leader in for a hug.

  When they let go, Liam said, “It’s not going to be easy to get you there, we’re going to have to take certain precautions.”

  “Whatever you need,” J.Z. replied.

  “You might not say that once you hear what you’ll have to do.”

  PLUNGING INTO THE THICK of the crowd, Cain shielded his face from cameras and began scanning the protesters. He ducked under a volley of heavy objects that were being flung in the general direction of the police, though the intent was more for effect than to actually target anyone in particular. Unfortunately for the gathered crowd, that meant it was more dangerous for them than for the well-shielded cops. The attackers didn’t care. As for Cain, he was savvy enough to avoid getting hit in the head — any violent distractions the criminals felt like adding to the mix were fine by him.

  It would’ve been preferable to avoid this nest of malcontents, but his business was here. Now that he knew the plot was confirmed, his next move was to to identify remaining members of the inner circle. Any of the ones who’d escaped his wrath on the day of the ghost appearance would do. Once he got his hands on one, he could pluck this so-called Plan B location right out of that person’s skull, using a tool he’d appropriated from Tera-Prime for just such a purpose.

  It wasn’t ethical, what he was planning. It could be seen as a human-rights violation. Or in this case, xeno-rights, as if they had any. Either way, he’d never have gotten away with it when he was a public official.

  But I’m nothing of the sort, now. It would be a simple enough matter to burrow into one of those enhanced minds of theirs, dig down deep and come up with the secret plan. So deeply buried it was, they’d managed to keep it from even the most persistent investigators in all of Tera-Prime. Until now.

  He watched for several hours, noting which of the protesters struck him as familiar, by face or by action. The remains of their movement were active still. He noted likely candidates, and left the protest zone. He’d nab one on their way home. If the first didn’t pay off, he now had a list to choose from.

  78.

  “In order to get to the launch site before the rest of the escapees,” Liam said, “we’re going to have to use an unorthodox method.”

  He had already begun preparing their ship, and J.Z. was looking pale at the realization of how tiny the thing was. He looked at Liam pleadingly.

  “There’s no other way. I tried to warn you...”

  “Are we both even going to fit?” J.Z. asked in a shaky tone, glancing over the craft.

  “It is a two-man skiff.”

  “And you say it goes into near-Earth orbit?”

  “That’s right.”

  J.Z. shook his head and whistled, but made no effort to resist as Liam began stuffing him into the tiny ship. There was just room enough in the cargo hold for Shooter, and just enough space in the cabin for the two of them, one astride the other, Space Mountain style.

  At liftoff, J.Z. let out a little yelp, but otherwise held it together as they launched their way into the sky and headed — in screaming fashion — into the blackness at the edge of space.

  THE ARRIVED AT THE launch site in record time, relatively none the worse for wear. They seemed to be alone. A single rocket stood silent, rising in grandeur to match the surrounding treetops. This was a top-secret military installation. Whatever powers Alixs had acquired in his months away from the freevos stood in clear relief — not a single soldier, or sentry of any kind, was to be found. How Alixs had cleared them out, Liam would never know. But they had the place to themselves.

  As if the thought of Alixs could serve to conjure him up these days, he suddenly appeared. And appeared was certainly the way to put it. He had an etherial glow, and seemed to phase in and out of reality as his friends stared back at him as if they were seeing a ghost. And indeed that’s what he resembled. As if to illustrate the point, he was hovering several inches above the ground. Truly a sight to behold.

  “Alixs!” J.Z. shouted, running for his friend. He stopped just short, as if unsure what sort of a greeting might work for such a transformed being. “Man, have you changed!”

  Alixs smiled and reached out a hand, which seemed to solidify as J.Z. reached out and shook it. Then Alixs looked over at Shooter with an affectionate smile, and finally to his old mentor. Liam, for his part, looked about ready to break down.

  “It’s good to see you, Liam. I’m glad you got here safely.”

  Liam collected himself and smiled. Then he hesitated, and finally said, “It’s true, then? The old legends. We can shift?”

  Alixs looked down at himself, then back up. “See for yourself.”

  Liam did so, stepping forward and looking his old friend over from tip to stern. He seemed incredulous, but the proof was hovering right in front of him.

  “This is how we accomplish the exodus, then?”

  Alixs nodded. “Come in,” he said, motioning towards the main structure astride the rocket. “We’ve got a lot to take care of.”

  THE CONTROL CENTER was, if possible, more impressive than the rocket itself. It was taller than the spacecraft by several meters, its enormous double doors running the length of it, so as to accommodate the rocket whole for repair and shelter. The command turret, poking out the top of the vertically sprawling structure, gave the nonexistent personnel a birds-eye view of the facility.

  There would be no ground staff in the end, no one to monitor last minute preparations. Everything had to be pre-programmed from the moment the last Xenolight got aboard. The Mind had seen to this when choosing the site. Thanks to the military bent, which included armageddon scenarios where no personnel was left alive, it was indeed possible to execute the launch sequence just that way. All Liam and Alixs would have to do, once the rest of their fellow travelers were safely uploaded, was to initiate the final count, and board. The computers would do the rest, from lift-off all the way into orbit.

  The rocket stood tethered by two retractable bridges. She was already quick-launch capable. The surrounding ring of mountains lent the scene a surreal quality, like some hidden monument to technology in the forest. The craft would’ve looked right at home surrounded by palm trees and blue ocean, the usual backdrop for such endeavors, but out here in the forest, it was otherworldly. Except for the markings. Those were strikingly familiar. Larger than life, the pitch black designation code X-021D covered a large swath of the main cylinder on the right, with an even bolder, bright red United States marking on the other side. The requisite American flag and NASA insignia, side by side across the top, capped it off.

  But this was no longer NASA’s property, even if they weren’t aware of that fact just yet. So the Xenolight’s first order of business was a re-christening. Something to make it more memorable, something to honor the historic event. Alixs had given it some thought.

  “My friends, our destiny and salvation, the Exodus. May it see us safely home to the stars.” He sounded impressive, if a bit forced, but his small band of brethren hardly begrudged him his moment. And it was a significant moment. But there was no time to savor it. The rest of the Xenolight would be on their way soon enough.

  THE RESPONSIBILITY of transforming the essence of another being was, under the best of circumstances, a weighty responsibility. But the added pressure of doing so before their enemies got wind of their plans was literally crushing Alixs. He was having trouble breathing, and worse, having trouble focusing on the task at hand.

  The preservation units were ready — built in advance according to exact specifications from the Mind by unwitting, oblivious space-agency personnel. Accustomed to their assignments being sent by nameless bureaucrats and military higher-up
s, they simply assumed it was just another research gizmo for some future project. Alixs never realized how essential the Mind’s work had been, handling all those myriad little details he never would have considered. Without her, we’re lost, he thought, the pain in his middle reminding him of how soon that would become a reality. But he couldn’t dwell on it. There was no time.

  The Mind had designed room enough for all the xeno consciousnesses in the world inside those protective cocoons, and equipped them with multiple redundancies, to ensure the system remained operational under the most extreme conditions. In the event of an impact, the cocoons were heavily shielded and reinforced, akin to aviation industry black boxes. As robust and sophisticated a device as technology allowed, the Mind had spent considerable time and attention in creating the perfect environment for their exodus.

  Storing all the xenos in the world might have seemed like wishful thinking, but Alixs knew this was the Mind’s way of ensuring that all probabilities were covered. Not all would come, but a good number would join them. And besides, these units were built to last. He imagined they might use it one day to set off on journeys to the other planets in the solar system, and perhaps even beyond. And there would be xenos left behind who might wish to join their brethren in space one day. It was conceivable they might arrange a return, a second exodus to follow the first, if all went well. It had many potential uses, though this first one was the most essential of all.

  79.

  “What happens if we get everyone uploaded and make our escape,” Liam said as they made their preparations, “only to find that the device was flawed?”

  “Flawed?”

  It wasn’t that Alixs didn’t understand the question. What he was having trouble with was Liam’s lack of faith in the Mind. Her calculations were inherently perfect, her equipment performed without fail. She had already accomplished the transformation. He was living proof.