by S A Asthana
Two large bubbles, equal in size to the first, floated above her. These were backups of the Parisian simulation. If the original bubble popped, the others would continue. The lives that played within them wouldn’t be disrupted in the course of a threatening event. Belle had contemplated it all. In fact, she had contemplated many things from her past and even her future. Those molecules of data that she remained submerged in could be used to think through thousands, if not millions of possibilities all at once. Every memory she had could be reviewed in detail concurrently – her time with Bastien could be played on a loop all the while. The water was her brain in some ways, allowing her to reflect and conjecture in real time, almost limitlessly. She could harness this ocean’s depths and the weight of its unending expanse to hypothesize and extrapolate. An ordinary human would have buckled under the weight of such power. But not Belle. She floated like she’d always belonged to this ocean of data. And she used its capacity to do what she was proficient in – hacking.
A bibulous, black mass approached like a slow-moving plume spouted by an underwater volcano in the darkness miles below. It overtook the depths – a terrifying monster rising. The nebulous form bulged and caved along its exterior, its blurry edges crackling a violent electric current every few seconds. This was no creature of the sea, or some other life form that had resulted from whole brain emulation, the experiment that had evolved Belle into her current digital state. No, this was something else.
It was the artificial intelligence that called itself Mother.
A smile curled Belle’s lips. Her efforts to rope in this particular member of the Martian High Council were finally yielding results. She swam down towards the mass with the grace of a dolphin and the resolve of a shark. Destroy and disrupt. Destroy. And disrupt. Her mantra since her days in New Paris.
The amorphous miasma overwhelmed the vast ocean like black ink diluting a cup of water. Belle swam within the murk, avoiding cracks of currents rippling across the form. It was as if she moved inside a sizzling thunderstorm cloud of data. Undeterred, she whirled back and forth, peeking deep into dark spaces for clues that might help her tame this foreign beast. The artificial intelligence was massive, as large as the ocean itself, and finding its core was no easy task. But there were hints – the concentrated crackles of electricity looked like a promising starting point to further her hack. Various regions, each separated by miles, thundered and shook with streaks of lightning bolts. These areas were the underlying intelligence, similar to how a human brain would conduct itself, if enlarged to such proportions.
Belle swam into a cobweb of electric crackle, twisting her limbs so as to avoid harm. In her current state, injury meant loss of data and processing power, not blood or cuts across skin. Enough loss of her structure meant lights out, so harm was still a concern. No more existence in the blink of an eye. Whole brain emulation didn’t mean immortality of conscience. While she could control some elements dangerous to her wellbeing within this quantum world, the real-world hardware infrastructure that supported this existence was outside her governance. As fearful a fact as it was, Belle remained unconcerned. Why worry about that which one can’t control? She practiced detachment from the physical.
A blinding burst of light enveloped her and a pulsing current shook her legs. The core had been found – its electric activity far more pronounced than any of the other nearby surges. Belle smiled despite the smoke around her bare feet. There would be loss of memory, but now wasn’t the time to worry. Now was the time to act.
Belle stretched out her arms and legs and surrounded herself with a spherical translucent force field, an antivirus of sorts. It belonged to her arsenal of hacking commands. Lightning bolts of malware struck it, but there was no harming her any more. Her eyes turned to thin slits. She’d set up a strong defense. Now, a counterattack must be delivered.
She whispered a command, “Execute hackbit.dat.” The sphere glowed a sinister crimson and its mass enlarged against the surrounding blackness. The High Council’s miasma pressed back, but to no avail – the sphere grew within seconds. It took up a sizable space within the ocean. The black form squirmed and was sucked inside that ever-expanding shape, one cloud, one glob of dark at a time. It became prey to Belle’s hack. A low, feminine moan grew from within those shadowy folds and peaked to an ear-shattering pitch.
Belle cracked a wicked grin. “Gotcha.” She’d shot the first salvo in her battle against the council.
CHAPTER 5: REO
White fluorescent tube lights cast a spectral pall over the datacenter. Black servers and grim consoles stood in stark contrast. Members of the Rogu Collective mulled about, and with the exception of a few stray glances at Reo, each appeared lost in their own headspace, their eyes sunken in despair. The last time Reo had been amongst them they’d discussed a plan for killing Marie. Of course, things hadn’t gone as hoped. His world had collapsed when Reo’s older brother Yukito and Marie had anticipated the assassination attempt – somehow, but how? It was hard to guess. Perhaps there had been spies. Maybe Reo slipped up and let a clue slip on the impending hit. Whatever the case, Marie had managed to outsmart him. And Reo’s beloved father and eldest brother paid the price with their lives, cut down in the crossfire.
A lone tear trailed down his cheek and fell into the bowl of ramen on his lap. The noodles were the first full meal he’d had in a while. His scant appetite didn’t do them justice. Guilt and remorse didn’t make for good dinner companions. They bloated an empty stomach.
“How are the noodles?” Bastien asked, bags sagging his eyes. He sat across from Reo with head forward and elbows resting on the knees.
Reo didn’t respond. He stared at nothing, seeing the memory of Marie’s wicked face, her pale oval slashed by a razor-sharp smile. “It’s past 8:15,” she said. “Your plan didn’t work.” It was the last thing he remembered before being wounded into an unconscious oblivion by her.
A live newscast streamed on a computer monitor nearby. “We now know that Bastien Lyons and Reo Honda were in cahoots.” The shrill voice blared. It belonged to Miss Ota, Nippon One’s eminent news journalist. “The footage of Reo’s breakout from Fuchū prison identifies Bastien clearly.” The ex-lieutenant’s picture flashed. He appeared quite different – combed black hair sat atop a clean-shaven face, and a warm smile beamed. There was hardly any resemblance to the bald, bearded yellow-eyed fugitive with no eyebrows that he’d become after his exile. That was a pallid ghoul.
Hani stood next to Reo, her ebony face long with worry. Miss Ota continued, “A third interloper has also been identified – Hani Islam.” Her picture filled the monitor, her curly black locks framing high cheekbones. “This thirty-five-year-old is a hacker and part of a thief outfit called the Rogu Collective.”
Heads perked up in the datacenter. The other members turned their attention to the newscast.
Reo’s photo appeared. “This apple fell quite far from the tree,” Miss Ota noted with her button nose held high, her piercing voice sharp with judgement. “Reo Honda’s fraternizing with conniving, low-life gaijins has cost us the lives of the great Emperor Akiyama and his heir, Etsuji. The Rogu Collective has now been deemed an enemy of the state, along with Reo.”
“Turn that off,” Greg Jackson said from a shadowy corner.
Hani pressed a key on the keyboard and the monitor faded to black. “I swear I had hacked every camera in our path. My program had identified all of them.”
“Well, clearly not all,” Greg spat, his square jaw jutting forward.
“I don’t need your judgement,” Hani shot back, her full lips drooped into a frown.
“I warned you all not to go sneaking into prisons.” Greg paced the datacenter, his stocky frame waddling from side to side. “I told you saving him was not going to make things better.” He pointed a thick finger at Reo.
“He needed to be saved.” Bastien stood with brow crunched. “If it weren’t for Belle and I, he wouldn’t have gone to great lengths to hatch the plan.
We all agreed Marie needed to be killed – including you. Remember? To leave him suffering in prison for a crime he didn’t commit would be unjust, especially when he was trying to avert war, just as we were.”
“Well, who’s going to save us now?” Greg said through gritted teeth. “Police will be searching every alley.”
“If there are any alleys left,” Nox said, his eyes wet. “The war will destroy us all.”
Reo stayed quiet with unseeing eyes.
Raul squealed from the corner. “Fuck, I don’t wanna die.”
“Calm the hell down.” Hani clapped her hands and snapped everyone’s attention to her. “This is not how we respond to a difficult situation.”
Greg scoffed.
“If you don’t feel safe, you can leave.” Hani pointed at him, her sinewy frame rippling with muscles under the tight leotard. “No one is forcing you to stick around, man. Just remember, though – you’re as culpable as the rest of us in all this.”
“Maybe I will leave,” Greg said, his head down in contemplation.
“It’s what you’re good at, anyway.” Hani’s words cut. Greg’s white face crunched into a scowl.
“Alright, look guys, no infighting,” Bastien interrupted. The tension was oppressive. It needed releasing. “We chose our path and now we must walk it. Onward and upward.”
Silence filled the cramped datacenter. All eyes turned to Bastien, even Reo’s.
“This is not the time to disband. Or be petrified,” he continued. Turning to Raul and Nox, he said, “We are scared because things seem out of our control. But they aren’t. Belle is working on hacking the High Council as we speak. I’m optimistic she’ll achieve her goals – the war can be ended.”
Turning to Greg, he noted, “If we abandon this datacenter, we will be abandoning Belle as well. That’s not right. It’s no different than abandoning Reo in that prison.”
The point resonated with Greg. He nodded, his eyes anchored to the concrete floor as if out of shame. He looked older than his fifty years, and his body seemed portlier now than before in his tight leather outfit, the Rogu’s uniform of choice.
“I realize we are all concerned about the police,” Bastien said. “They will definitely be on the lookout for us. And we feel helpless, I get that.” His eyes darted from face to face. “But let’s do what we can to mitigate the risk.” He might not be a Lieutenant General any longer, but his martial pedigree was on display. The man could take control. A natural leader. Reo’s back straightened in anticipation. “We need to monitor their every move. Surely, with a group of such talented hackers, there’s got to be a way to plug into the police.”
Heads nodded.
Bastien pointed at Raul and said, “You can hack into their internal communication lines and monitor their chatter. In this manner, we could see a possible attack coming. Correct?”
“Y-yes, I can… I can do that.”
“Excellent.” Bastien patted the man’s narrow back. Turning to Nox, he said, “And you should be able to redirect CCTV footage from nearby streets to ensure we are alerted of increased police traffic. Right?”
“Right. I can. Yes.”
“And that’s how we make an overwhelming situation an underwhelming one.” Bastien rested his hands on his waist.
“I can help,” Reo said in a thick Japanese accent, his boyish voice frail and weak. All eyes trained on him. This was the first they’d heard him speak in a long while. Bastien had emboldened him. His backbone had firmed once more. He scratched the scruff on his chin. “You guys seem to have a plan for the High Council. I take it someone in your crew is trying to hack into their systems.” He didn’t know Belle – had never met her, but she seemed a key element in defending against Port Sydney. “I can try to change things on my side.”
Brows crunched. Hani asked, “You mean… like changing Yukito’s mind?”
“But that’s impossible,” Greg said. “He’s a maniac.”
“I know, I know that very well.” Reo held up his slim hands. “I didn’t mean my brother or Marie. They are most definitely insane.” He broke into a fit of coughs.
Bastien came over to help. “You alright?” He patted his back. Reo nodded – there was still weakness from his brutal stint in the prison.
“I’m okay. But I’ll be even better when I can get in touch with Gensui-Rikugun-Taishō.”
“The Marshal?” Hani blanched.
Reo nodded. His eyes gleamed as if critical thinking had seeped back into them. “Yes, him. He’s a nationalist through and through. He must realize what a mistake it has been handing over the reins to my brother.”
“You think you can convince him of this,” Bastien asked, “even after the charges leveled against you?”
Reo shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.” Their relationship had been strained, sure, but perhaps there was a level of sanity in the marshal. There had to be. “If I can convince him, then I can have the backing of the Nipponese army. A military coup could be in the cards.”
Silence followed. Eyes roamed the floor – everyone contemplated the idea. Reo sat back down on account of weakness. His head throbbed and there was a dull ache all over his body. Recovery would take time. But now wasn’t the time for rest because work needed doing. His brother had set Nippon One down the path of destruction. It was obvious he was unfit to lead. How could the Nipponese not see that? How could they be deceived so easily? They were smarter than that. Gensui-Rikugun-Taishō was smarter than that. The man just needed to see the light.
“How can we help?” Bastien finally asked. “After all, you’re a fugitive now. And getting an audience with the Marshal will not be easy. It could be a death sentence, in fact.”
“You guys can’t help me with this,” Reo answered. “This is on me.”
Gregg scoffed. “Oh, just like it was on you to come up with a plan to kill Marie.”
A rage burned within Reo – he was humiliated, of course, but he’d lost the most out of all of them from his folly. Couldn’t they see that? Greg poured salt on wounds and Reo’s fists clenched. “Let me fix what I broke,” Reo said. It took his remaining strength to hold back an urge to punch Greg in the face. “I need this to redeem myself. For my people.”
Heads nodded except Greg’s. He only grumbled, more to himself than anything.
“Ignore him,” Bastien said to slice the tension. He put his hands on Reo’s shoulders – a big brother consoling a younger one. Perhaps Etsuji would have done the same if he were still alive. He had been a good sibling, despite his shortcomings. “Our own paths back to grace might be different, but there are friends along the way ready to help.”
Reo blinked away tears. “Thank you.” Bastien was a force for good, he saw that. A true leader. Someone to emulate.
“Hey, guys!” Doctor Bala bounced in from the smaller datacenter at the back, his chubby face sweaty and haggard. He was excited. With double chins jiggling, he announced, “You need to hear this.”
He bowled over as if to catch his breath.
Bastien rushed to him. “You okay, doc?”
Bala waved the concern away with a fleshy hand. “I’m good. Actually, I’m better than good.” His ever-present infectious smile was back. “Good news – Belle thinks she’s hacked Mother.”
CHAPTER 6: MARIE
Light radiated from the crystal chandelier and cast a sparkling yellow hue over the palatial room. The grand window’s silk curtains shimmered and the white marble floor gleamed. The smell of cooked chicken wafted the bedroom. Marie lay sprawled on the opulent king-sized bed, its fine wood posts towering over her. Flames from the fireplace danced in her blue orbs. She cracked a thin smile. This bed had belonged to Etsuji only days back. Now it was hers and Yukito’s. Funny how life favored the wicked.
The perks of being a Nipponese royal were unparalleled. Since her inauguration as empress, her previous stint as Parisian ruler seemed trivial. A time that couldn’t compare to her current comforts. While she’d always had servants and secur
ity down in New Paris, here she had all those plus the best food in the Solar System, the best garments out of the colonies – the best everything, really. Even the subjects revered her. So smitten were they by her story of survival from the Martian invasion upon New Paris, they didn’t care she was a gaijin. Nor did they care about stories from her past. The blood rituals, the debauchery, none of it made a difference. No, here she was absolutely untouchable. While she might have felt like a goddess back in New Paris, here she actually lived as one.
Marie reached over and plucked two plump grapes from a bunch resting on the side table’s silver platter. They exploded in her mouth, entertaining taste buds long accustomed to human flesh. New Paris’ life had demanded cannibalism, to supplement a meager diet. It had eventually become her habit even during months when food stores were ample.
“Sing to me,” Marie commanded, her stare fixed on the fireplace at the far side of the room.
“Hai.” A man, her servant, nodded. He sat by the bed cross-legged on the floor with head down. Taking a deep breath, he sang the Hail Mary prayer in French with a strong Japanese accent, “Je vous salue Marie, pleine de grâce, Le seigneur est avec vo—”
Marie broke into hysterical laughter. “Stop, please, stop – you’re so bad.” She chuckled manically. “Your accent is awful.”
The man sighed.
“What’s your name again, servant?” she asked, wiping a trail of grape squirt from her chin.
“H-Haruto,” he stammered.
“H-Haruto?” she mocked. “Well… H-Haruto, maybe you’re better at dancing than you are at singing and speaking. So… dance!”