by Brandt Legg
“What the hell are you talking about?” Miner asked.
“How. Do. We. Make. It. Better?” Blaise said slowly. He looked around the room. “This is the hope for our species, the four of you, our top people, and you just don’t get it.”
“They want to make it better,” Sarlo said. “The Imps and even the CHRUDEs, they’re just trying to fix us.”
“Fix us?” the Chief asked, astonished by the notion. “They are the machines!”
“But they are designed to improve. It’s programmed into them. That’s why they are so amazing, because they have one objective: to make everything better. Themselves, the duties they’re tasked with, problem-solving, every kind of analysis, and even us. Don’t you get it? They are trying to make us better,” Blaise repeated.
“They have a funny way of doing it,” the Chief muttered.
“Don’t even try to understand them. Their methods are way beyond your logic, especially yours,” Blaise said.
“So are you trying to tell us not to fight them?” Chelle asked in a formal tone.
“War will end only in one way,” Blaise empathetically replied. “Human extinction.”
They’d all considered that horrific possibility, that’s why they were gathered at that very moment, but to hear Blaise say it, after everything else, somehow made it more real. Closer. Imminent.
They were all silent for a moment. Deuce had seen it in the prophecies. He’d come to believe that one of the primary purposes of the Justar Journal had been to save the human race. Munna was right. It was foolish to use something so powerful to attempt to win some battles.
Deuce repeated the earlier, still unanswered, question. “What do the Imps see?”
“They see the truth,” Blaise said. “They see the universe from the inside. Instead of looking up into the stars, they look out from the core energy that is the stars. Our essence . . . they see the potential of the light. The power of the dream.”
Chapter 68 - Book 3
In the three years that Grandyn had been with Fye, she’d never told him more than a few minor details about the City. He knew it was the place where most of the List Keepers lived and worked, but most of the rest had been left to his imagination. He had been to a few List Keeper “outposts,” which typically were berms in remote hillsides, concealed with a combination of natural and manufactured camouflage. They served as high-tech monitoring and risk stations, and were usually manned by two or three people.
The City was apparently something entirely different. It had been constructed even before the Banoff in an isolated mountain range in what had been the western United States.
“Where is it?” Grandyn asked again, still seeing no evidence of anything not formed by nature.
“We’re on top of it right now.”
“I’ve spent huge parts of my life in the woods,” Grandyn said, “and I’ve been looking for any trace of something manmade . . .”
“I told you, you wouldn’t find anything,” she said, laughing.
“You’re telling me there’s a ‘city’ under us? I don’t believe it.”
“Well, they call it the City . . . it’s really more like a huge underground facility that houses two thousand nine hundred List Keepers,” Fye explained. “But they’re never all inside at once. Hundreds usually work outside, mostly in the outposts, occasionally in exposed positions, like me.”
He was still looking around for an entrance. “No wonder no one has ever found them.”
“Partly because for decades, no one even knew we existed. And the handful who’ve heard of us now don’t know much more than the rumor. Who are we? What do we do? It’s all a mystery. ‘Are the List Keepers even real?’ they wonder.”
“Where’s the entrance?”
“Some of the oldest List Keepers call the City ‘Shangri La,’ not because it’s a paradise or anything, just because it’s impossible to find,” Fye said, ignoring his question. “See those trees? They’re used for harvesting solar and wind energy. The City is ultra-efficient, so it doesn’t need much. Air ventilation is done through rock outcroppings all over the mountain.”
She walked on a little farther, then stopped and pointed.
The entrance, located in an area completely concealed from the air by thick pines, covered the bottom of what looked like an old avalanche scar. A tumble of boulders, each looking to weigh a thousand kilos, covered the ground with enough scree and undergrowth that they might have been there for centuries.
Grandyn stared, bewildered, seeing nothing that looked like an opening. Suddenly, one of the giant boulders moved, then lifted with surprisingly quiet hydraulics or some mechanism, and pivoted to reveal an opening approximately two meters wide. He peered in and saw nothing but blackness.
“Are you ready? They don’t like to leave this open for very long.”
Grandyn looked behind them, suddenly paranoid that they might have been followed. It might have all been a trap.
“Come on,” Fye said, giving him a little push.
“It’s dark,” he said, standing with one foot over the dark hole.
“Have a little faith, TreeRunner.”
He stepped in and his foot landed on a hard stone step. At the same time, a bluish light lit the descending steps in front of that one. He started down with Fye right behind him. The stone staircase appeared ancient. He stopped and looked back up, realizing the boulder had silently covered the entrance without his noticing.
The shaft opened larger now as the steps spiraled wide, making the descent less steep. At the center of the spiral there was an opening about four meters across. There was no railing, and Grandyn made the mistake of looking down into the center. Fye grabbed him before he fell.
“It’s got to be at least thirty meters deep!” Grandyn said, gasping.
“Something like that,” Fye said. “But you have to be careful. The light comes from down there. It plays tricks on your eyes and totally messes with your sense of perception.”
He kept his fingers on the stone wall at the outer edge of the spiral as they continued down. Then, he realized it wasn’t just light rising up from the depths of the center of the staircase.
“Are those words?” he asked, stopping to stare at the spectacle. Translucent letters and characters floated up like dust and butterflies‒ thousands of them, maybe millions. They spelled words in languages Grandyn only recognized from old, banned books. The letters bent and merged, changing colors as if caught in a muted prism. Sentences, whole paragraphs, twisted past them.
“Yes,” she answered, nudging him forward.
Then he saw something else. “And faces?” he asked excitedly.
“Yes, one of my favorite parts about this entrance.”
“Whose faces?” he asked, looking at the faded faces, seemingly made up from countless tiny points of light. Their expressions were changing, as if they were alive in some form, some realm.
“Everyone’s,” she replied. A few steps later she added, “Everyone who has ever died.”
Grandyn couldn’t help but stop again. “How is that possible?” he asked, mesmerized, unable to look away from the blue light. Grandyn found himself searching for his mother and father.
Fye took both his hands, stepped down next to him, and stared into his eyes. “You have to realize that you were raised out there, in the ‘real world,’ so you have no idea what is possible. The Aylantik stole that from you, stole it from everyone.”
“They didn’t steal it from the List Keepers.”
“No.”
“So you were raised down here?”
“Mostly.”
“It’s amazing,” he said, looking over her shoulder at the passing words and faces.
“Beyond comprehension, really.”
He nodded, already overwhelmed by the spectacle, and they weren’t even all the way in yet. “How much farther?”
“Don’t worry, we’re not going all the way to the bottom.”
Five minutes or more passed bef
ore Fye told him to stop. “Just back up a little,” she said. As he moved, the “solid” stone wall opened slowly, as if on giant silent hinges.
“The craftsmanship of this whole entrance is incredible,” Grandyn said. “I can’t wait to see the rest of it.”
When the door opened wide enough that he could see in, disappointment greeted him. After all the anticipation and what he’d just seen, he’d been expecting some kind of science fiction extravaganza. Instead, the City looked more like a medieval cave. A dimly lit tunnel disappeared into darkness ahead of them.
“This is it?” he asked, wanting to go back out into the stairway shaft.
“Don’t worry,” Fye said, laughing. “In a few hours you’re going to tell me that you never want to leave the City.”
“In a few hours? Imagine how many people will die up there in that much time.”
“I know you want to talk to the leaders of the List Keepers,” Fye said, turning serious, “but please, be patient. Everything works just a little bit differently down here. We’re here, we made it, and that’s the most important thing.”
Grandyn nodded. “Okay.” He even managed a smile. Fye’s healthy appearance had returned, along with her calm confidence.
An old man, wearing what looked like a monk’s brown robe, walked slowly toward them. He smiled and bowed slightly to Fye. She returned the greeting. He looked older than anyone Grandyn had ever seen, as if his skin might slide off his bones at any second.
“Welcome to the City, Grandyn,” he said. “We’ve been waiting to meet you.”
Chapter 69 - Book 3
The great powers had been arguing for almost an hour. Meanwhile, the Trapciers were gaining more control. The war was expanding, and worsening, by the minute. The Chief called for a vote.
“So we must side with the Trapciers in order to survive this?” Deuce asked Blaise for a final clarification.
“I see no other way,” Blaise replied.
“No other way?” the Chief exclaimed. “Blaise is out of his mind. I’d expect that from him, but Deuce? You can’t possibly be entertaining such a preposterous idea?”
“Clearly we are in a place that humanity has never been before. The war is pushing us backwards toward the edge of a cliff . . . extinction,” Deuce said. “We must deliberate and make the most careful decision.”
“I have to agree with the Chief,” Miner added. “With whatever else has happened since this thing began, it was between us, all humans. But the machines can’t be allowed to survive this day. Ever since Artificial Intelligence began more than one hundred years ago, people have warned against this . . . but we thought we were too smart. That we had them under control. Well hell, it looks like we torged that one up. We must gang up against them, not join them!”
“Give me my damned satellites back and I’ll destroy every last Imp, android, any creature with wires,” the Chief said, glaring at Deuce. “They’re only winning because you took out the satellites.” She shook a finger at Deuce. “You give them back, or so help me, you’ll rue the day!”
Chelle sat silently, listening to the others argue, waiting for a pause, and then spoke. “There comes a time when we must stop looking to the past and instead look to the future, if there is to be one. Our differences, our crimes,” she stopped and looked at the Chief, and then to Miner, “must be put aside or else war would never end.”
She moved a VM into view so that they could all see it.
“I’m sure you all have similar numbers available to you, but these are PAWN Command’s latest estimates on the number of dead as a result of this war and the new plague.” Again she paused to look at the Chief and Miner. “It’s hundreds of millions!”
Even Miner swallowed hard. They all knew the numbers, but there hadn’t been time for any of them to focus on them. They’d just been trying to stop the slaughters. All except the Chief.
“Need I remind you, the revolution was your idea,” the Chief snapped at Chelle. “You started an illegal war, you committed treason, you set these terrible events into motion.”
Chelle stared at the Chief as if she might kill her electronically, that her only reason for being was to watch that wretched old woman die.
Miner excused himself and disappeared. Sarlo had asked him for a moment. “They’re about to vote,” she said. “You need to think about the current course we are on. The simulations show that we have anywhere from days to three weeks before human extinction is irreversible. Days!”
“How can you expect me to side with the machines?” Miner asked.
“Because the AOI and the Aylantik are finished. Look at the simulations. The AOI cannot save us.”
“Have you plugged in this scenario? Us all siding with the Imps?”
“Yes,” Sarlo said, looking at him gravely. “It shows a forty-six percent chance that the human race survives.”
“That’s not good enough,” Miner shot back.
“It has to be!” Sarlo shouted. “If we side with the Chief, the chance of survival is single digits.”
He was silent for a moment. “But you’re asking a machine. They probably have everything rigged now. What do you think the machine will say? It’ll tell us to side with the torgon machines!”
“Lance, PAWN, and Deuce are going to side with the Imps. Blaise and whatever or whoever the damned List Keepers are will certainly go with the Imps. That leaves us. P-Force can make the difference. You’ve seen what the Chief is capable of, and she hates you. What do you think will happen if P-Force and the AOI happen to hit that six percent chance and win? She. Will. Kill. You.”
He stared at her. She was one of the few people in the world who didn’t hate him. Hell, even my wife and kids don’t like me much, he thought. “The Imps are dangerous. They want it all.”
“The problem with believing you are right all the time is that you miss those occasions when you are wrong, and it’s in those moments when you would have learned the most.”
He studied her, wishing he had the depth that she did. “What if I go with the AOI?”
“I’ll resign.”
He nodded. “I thought so.” Miner made a gesture that took him back into the meeting.
“Welcome back Lance,” the Chief said impatiently. “We’re ready to vote.”
“Deuce?”
“I see no alternative but to join with the Trapciers,” he said.
“Will they even have you?” the Chief snorted. “They’ll kill you in your sleep.”
“I believe the Imps will welcome Deuce and his BLAXERS,” Blaise said.
“It will be your downfall Deuce!” the Chief blasted. “Remember, I warned you.”
“PAWN will be joining as well,” Chelle said.
“Of course you will,” the Chief whined. “Lance, are you standing with the Aylantik, or with the traitors?”
“P-Force will join with the others,” Lance said, not looking back at Sarlo, but sensing her smile.
“You’re a fool, Lance. I’ve always known it, but you’ve just proven it,” the Chief said bitterly. “I’ll beat the Trapciers myself, and then I’m coming for the rest of you. Do you forget the might of the AOI?”
She signed off before they could answer.
Chelle and Deuce were both surprised Miner had come on board. Soon the three of them, along with Blaise and Sarlo, plotted a strategy. There wasn’t much time. Fifteen minutes after the Chief had gone dark, they had Sidis and Charlemagne connected. The Imps then shared news so shocking that they all stared at one another, absolutely speechless.
Chapter 70 - Book 3
The old man studied Fye and then hugged her. “I’m sorry,” he said knowingly. “You’ll be fine now.” He turned to Grandyn. “So young to have carried so much weight.”
“We’ve all had to make sacrifices,” Grandyn said.
“So we have,” the old man said. “This way.” He led them across the cold, hard floor toward a long corridor. “My name is Cogs, and in case you were wondering, I’m not as old
as I look.”
Although clean, and with good air, the place gave the impression of being an old mine.
Grandyn couldn’t help asking, “If you don’t mind my asking, how old are you?”
“I was born in 1928,” Cogs said, in a tone that seemed filled with memories of times, people, and places long gone. “It was a very different world back then.”
Grandyn did the math. The man he was having trouble keeping up with was one hundred and seventy-three. Incredible! Cogs had lived four decades before Munna was even born.
“List Keepers!” he whispered to himself in amazement. What on earth is at the end of the winding corridor? he wondered. It took several more minutes for him to find out.
They stood facing a solid stone wall, with no other way to go. Grandyn turned to Fye, wondering if there were another hidden staircase. She nodded back to the wall in front of them. Grandyn looked back just in time to see it fade in a pixilated dissolve. He had no time to be impressed, for as they stepped forward, he saw what he would later learn was called “the Great Hall.”
A vast room, perhaps one hundred fifty meters long and half as wide, made him audibly gasp. The ceiling appeared to be open to the sky, but that seemed impossible. Even more baffling was the waterfall, or more accurately, a huge column of water falling from the center of the sky/ceiling. The water plunged at least forty meters before disappearing into a round pool that took up a large portion of the center of the Great Hall. Above the ground level, terraced paths lined with trees and other vegetation fanned upward. Stone trails seemed to go in every direction, through fields of flowers, into the trees, and around the pool. At one end he saw an orchard, and had to remind himself that they were underground.