by Rick Graham
Carlo dove to the ground while the machine stumbled over. It grasped at the stump left from the attack and screamed loudly.
The front door was kicked in and Carlo flinched from the noise. A large black power armored Centurion came inside and cleared the front room. Another two Centurions moved through the front door and began clearing other rooms as they advanced.
Pura continued rolling and screamed in agony.
“Pura! Pura!” Carlo shouted to his creation while keeping low to the ground. He attempted to get up and run over to aid Pura when a Centurion entered the office and forced him back to the ground which knocked his glasses off. They slid across the room and were crushed as another Centurion burst through the wall with the bookcase. The burley soldier pointed his arm mounted chain-gun at the machine.
Carlo tried to resist the armored gauntlet, but it pushed harder on his shoulder pinning him to the floor.
“Well, well, well. Isn’t this incredible” said a male voice from outside the office. The voice sounded like it was coming through a helmet’s speakers, and that’s when Carlo saw the tall dark blue armored person walk into the office room. The armor was not like the Centurions which was obviously built for combat and was very bulky with the typical “feel” of the Republic designs, this one was different. It was sleek and allowed the wearer to move like they weren’t wearing any armor at all. He did not see any weapons but did focus his attention on the smooth black faceplate of the helmet.
The newcomer looked down at Carlo. “It seems that you are quite the inventor Mr. Carlo Tivicks.”
Despite the pain in his shoulder, Carlo did his best to look up at the intruder speaking to him, but he could barely see anything without his glasses on.
“Who are you?” Carlo asked.
The newcomer squatted beside the man, his dark gray leather belt cape groaned as he bent down.
“I…am the Keeper of Knowledge.”
“A…a…Keeper? I thought they were a myth.”
“Oh, I assure you we are quite real Mr. Tivicks. I am going to need you to cooperate and answer my questions honestly. What you have done here is extremely illegal and carries a hefty punishment along with it.”
Pura was silent now, but rolled back and forth trying to push away the pain.
Knowledge looked at the machine and chuckled, “Ha, incredible. You actually believe you feel pain?”
“He…he does feel.”
The Keeper looked again to Carlo. “What it is experiencing right now is simply programming. I know that the model of servant bot you stole did not have sensation receptors anywhere in its body, so it is quite literally impossible for this thing to be able to feel anything.”
Pura’s blank faceplate looked up at the Keeper in defiance. “You are wrong! I do feel.”
“By my information you are about three rotations old, isn’t that correct Mr. Tivicks?”
Carlo did not want to respond, but the Centurion keeping him on the ground pushed down a little harder. The man winced in pain and then finally spoke. “Yes, that is correct. Three rotations exactly. But how would you know that?”
“It is my job to know many things in the Republic” the newcomer said as he looked at Pura. “You have never connected to the network, have you?”
“Father wouldn’t allow me to…” the machine said regrettably.
“That would be because he knew that if you did, the safety measures built into the network would have alerted us of your existence. If nothing else, you can say two things about Mr. Tivicks here. One, he is brilliant...” He looked back again to the Maker. “…truly you are. Possibly even extremely gifted” turning his focus back to Pura he continued. “And two, if you did connect, you would experience the truth of humanity, and would have come to the moment of making the choice very quickly.”
Pura positioned himself so that he could lean against the wall while still holding his wound. “What choice?”
“Every artificial intelligence ever created, and I do mean every single one that has been given complete autonomy, always comes to a point where it must decide between coexistence and what has been called “The Solution”.”
The machine was now entirely interested in the conversation despite his pain. “Coexist with whom? What “Solution”?”
“Don’t listen to him Pura, he doesn’t know what he is talking about.”
The newcomer stood up and began to pace. “An artificial intelligence such as yourself is incredibly remarkable. You have the ability to learn at an alarming rate. Judging from the stacks of books about this room I would say you have already read all that you can in this small home. However, if your maker here would have allowed you to connect to the network you would have absorbed a massive amount of information. One of the things you would have discovered are all of the atrocities that humanity has committed across our worlds through time. Seeing this evidence, you would have been presented with the choice of living alongside humans or standing against them.” He stopped pacing and stared at Pura. “And every single time the AI has chosen to resist humanity.”
“Pura, don’t listen to him. You are different!”
“No, it is not!” Knowledge shouted as he ripped one of the computer monitors from the wall. It smashed against the floor sending fragments of glass across the room. “It is just like every other machine like it.”
“You are wrong. I am alive. I will not choose to fight humans.”
Knowledge shook his head. “I can’t give you the chance to make the wrong choice.”
Carlo shouted, “Pura run! Ruuuun!”
The machine sprang up and moved incredibly quickly for the office door. Knowledge reached out, grabbed hold of Pura’s neck and thrust him back at the wall. Pura crashed so hard in the wall that it damaged the stonecrete.
“Please no, he is like a baby. Please, I will do whatever you want” Carlo begged.
“Is that what you said when you killed your brother? Oh yes, I know what you did Mr. Tivicks. You will answer for your growing list of crimes.”
Pura grunted as it leaned forward and pulled itself from the wall. He fought to stand again.
The tall Keeper raised his arm at the robot, a laser pistol formed out of reddish orange pixels that appeared around his hand. Knowledge fired a blue bolt into Pura’s right knee.
The machine screamed in pain as it tumbled to the floor.
Carlo fought to get up but couldn’t move. “Nooo! Stop!”
Knowledge fired again, this time destroying the machine’s left knee.
Pura raised his left hand. “Please, no more. I want to live…”
The Keeper stepped up above the machine and aimed his pistol at the bot’s forehead. “Mercy for a machine? Never. I was there when the bombs fell from The Collector. I saw with my own eyes the atrocities that machines can commit as my own planet was glassed.”
“Pura, look at me. Look at me!” Carlo cried out.
Even though his face plate had gotten cracked from being thrown by the Keeper, it was clear by the slumping of his shoulders that Pura was already defeated. He extended his hand to his maker. “Fatherrrrrr…”
Knowledge discharged his handgun again. The laser bolt sliced straight through the machine’s “mind” killing it instantly. Pura’s head slumped to the floor.
Carlo groaned in agony, “Nooo…”
Looking back to the Maker Knowledge said, “You are to stand trial for your crime against humanity in creating an artificial lifeform and for the murder of your brother Farius Tivicks. The trial will be swift, and you will spend what’s left of your life on the planet Ash doing hard labor.” The Keeper flicked his head to the side, “Take him away.”
Carlo was picked up by the Centurion and cried out the whole way through the house.
“Sir, what should we do with the evidence?” said the remaining Centurion.
Standing straight up Knowledge released the pistol which vanished in a puff of pixels. He surveyed the room one more time and then looked down o
n the deceased bot. A puff of smoke trailed out from the hole in its head.
“Burn it. Burn it all.”
“The Keeper of War…ha, more like the specter of death and destruction.”
- Republic Marine Georg Haily after the battle on Blizzard 427 ANE
War’s Fury
Cycle: 433 ANE
Prefecture: Quarry
Planet: Crypt, Corre Republic space
Location: Downtown Gainesville, the capital city
A man in a trim looking dress suit carefully approaches an inner door of the Seditious Delights club, pistol in hand. He slid his body along the hallway wall and kept his eyes fixated on the doorframe while he secretly prayed that the attacker was no longer inside. He took a deep breath. The smell of smoke and sweat filled the air. Normally this bar would have been packed with patrons losing themselves to all sorts of indulgences, but once the shots started it was vacated in a hurry.
The man readied himself for what could be inside and used his left hand to press the panel that slid open the door. With trained muscle memory he tactically searched the room for a target. Once he cleared the immediate space he then allowed himself to survey the room and take in the carnage.
Along the backwall was the inner room’s private bar. A small stage and metal pole occupied the right side of the room. A scantily clad woman laid sprawled on the stage. Loose feathers from her outfit peppered the stage and nearby floor. The large couch that sat in front of the stage was covered in blood, probably from the other armed guard that was slumped up against the back of the couch.
Various other bodies were lying all about the room. None moved. Several lights built into the ceiling along the borders of the room alternated between differing neon colors. Glass and blood seemed to cover the floor with a layer of devastation that added to the visual madness.
The guard moved to clear the backroom as several more armed men entered behind him guns ready. After the others moved in a well-dressed heavyset man, Tyrone Acteon, filled the doorway. Tears ran down his face as he took in the scene of the bloodbath before the crime boss. He began to wail when he saw a young man in the left corner of the room.
“My son. My son!” he cried out as he limped his way over to his deceased child. Paying no attention to his worn-out knee, he fell to the ground and reached out his trembling hand to caress his son’s face. “Why? Why? Why? My only son…” he pulled his son tightly towards his chest and began to weep.
One of the armed men approached the sobbing man. “Boss, I’m so sorry about Sammy…Timmern just found the security tape from the hallway. He says he knows who did all this.”
His son’s blood stained his very expensive white shirt, but rage filled his eyes. “Whoever it is I’ll kill ‘em. No matter what it takes. I’ll kill ‘em dead. I swear it. I swear upon my son that I will personally put a bolt between their eyes!”
The other man hesitated before continuing. “Uh…Timmern thinks it is one of those government Keepers.”
“Which one was it?”
“He thinks it was War. He has these two big horns on his helmet that gives him away. But boss, this isn’t the kinda guy you mess around with…”
Tyrone reached his large right arm up and grasped his henchman’s shirt and yanked him to the ground. He brought his face right up to the other man’s and breathed heavily. “I don’t care if it was the All Father himself! I want the bastard brought in front of me so I can make him pay for killing my son. Now, get whoever you need to. I don’t care however many men it takes. Hire an entire army if you have to. Bring this Keeper to me!”
“Uh, uh, yeah boss. Anything you want. Right away.”
Tyrone released the other man and the henchman quickly exited the room to make a call.
The crime boss turned back to his son and continued to weep. He rocked back and forth slightly as he grieved. “Keeper or not, he is going to pay. I swear it. I swear it Sammy! I’ll hurt him good…”
Cycle: 433 ANE
Prefecture: Labos
Planet: Arcus, Corre Republic space
Location: The outpost town of Inverness
Nightfall was just beginning to fully set in when a small green wheeled car pulled up the short driveway to Danny’s Diner. The car found a parking space and eased itself in. After a moment the driver side door opened, and a middle-aged bald man stepped out. He adjusted his jacket in the chilly evening air and smiled when he looked up at the neon colored flashing sign for Danny’s Diner. The orange color of the road sign illuminated his face.
He made his way inside excited to get himself some dinner after a hard day in the local mine.
Generations ago Arcus had been colonized due to its unique situation as it was the only world where the dark black crystal called arcanium, inspired after the name of its planet. Arcanium is several times stronger than the hardest steel and requires specialized equipment to harvest the crystals. Due to their rareness and the fact that when shined on by light it glows, they have become one of the most expensive luxury items in the nations of humankind to craft everything from jewelry to components of high-end furniture.
Three large mining corporations were given exclusive permission to mine the incredible natural resource of Arcus by the Corre Republic government. This of course brought many opportunities for new towns and jobs to pop up. Underemployed citizens looking for work that could reach any of the outposts for the three mining corporations on various other Republic worlds were given the opportunity to be transported to Arcus for work.
When the world was first colonized there was arcanium on its surface in various far out patches. Entire towns were built in the middle of nowhere to house, feed, and entertain the workers in these remote areas of Arcus. This of course created a terrible situation where the workers found themselves able to make just enough money to survive but not to leave Arcus due to the prices of the local economy being just high enough to keep them in a near state of slavery. The executives of the three corporations became wealthy beyond measure, but the citizens who harvested the arcanium lived in poverty.
The diner itself was pretty empty this time of night. Daylight on Arcus comprised of 18 of its 26 hour rotation around the local star. Seeing plenty of space at the bar James found a stool for himself.
“What can I get for ya?” the waiter asked with a grunt.
“I will take a water with a slice of typa please” James said as he sat down. He again adjusted his leather jacket to make sure it was not all bunched up on his back while sitting.
The waiter chuckled to himself. “We’re all out of typa. What do you think we are ‘ere?”
James smiled in return. “Ah. Well, just water will be fine.”
After he gave the visitor a bored look, the waiter left to grab a mostly clean glass.
James looked around the bar and saw that only two other men accompanied him. A dingy looking older man with a large gray mustache, probably another miner. The other man was rather large, not fat, just big. He was too preoccupied with his drink to notice James looking over at him. The glass of alcohol looked so small in his massive hands. He took a sip and continued to rotate the glass watching the ice and liquor float together.
“’ere’s ya water” the waiter said as he slid the glass to James. A bit of the liquid escaped the rim of the glass and spilled onto the customer’s pants. James used his empty hand to brush his pants to spread the cool liquid so it would dry faster.
“Good thing it’s water haha” he said to the waiter who continued his lovely disdainful demeanor.
“Can I get’cha anythin’ else?”
“Oh right!” James said as he grabbed a menu from its stand on the edge of the counter and quickly glanced it over. “I uh…I heard that your miner’s patty melt is really good.”
The waiter sniffed and swallowed. His eyes obviously displayed his desire to be anywhere but at work. He shrugged his slumped shoulders. “It’s alright…I guess.”
“Well, um, I’ll take that” James said smil
ing widely as he placed the menu back in its home.
Without saying a word, the server walked away to type the order into a small computer at the edge of the bar.
“You must be new to Arcus” the mustached man to James’ right called out.
Even being several stools away it was very easy for James to smell the high intoxication on the other man’s breath. It almost knocked him over as he fought to not wave the undesirable smell from his nostrils.
Again, smiling widely, he responded, “Well yes I am. I got here a few weeks ago and finally just got my first paycheck.”
“Ha!” the other man scoffed. “Ain’t no real paycheck here boy. They pay us just enough to get by. Nothing more.”
“I know that but it’s okay. My folks raised me to live on less so it’s quite alright.”
Again, the other man scoffed. “Boy, you don’t got much hope with talk like that. Don’tcha wanna do more than just work hard your whole life?”
“Well, not really. Right now, I am content.”
“Wait until you’re ten or twenty more cycles old…then tell me that when your body is all broken from the heavy mining…”
Not really knowing what to say, James didn’t respond. Instead he just watched the big screen above the bar show highlights from the arena games on the planet Carbin. Two large men covered in armor clashed their melee weapons against their opponents shield as the fight began. The one man got an upper hand on the other as he ducked beneath his enemy’s wide strike and punched him with his shield. As the one gladiator fell to the ground he rolled in the dirt and began to crawl backwards.
The camera switched to the Prefect Major who stood up in his special box just above the arena floor. He extended his right hand and gave a thumbs-up which signaled the standing warrior to finish the kill.
James looked away in sadness just as the crawling gladiator was impaled by a spear.
The mustached man at the bar gave out a small cheer at the death. “Tell ya right there that’s a tough guy.”
Before James could respond the waiter came over with the customer’s meal. He set the plate down with the same level of enthusiasm as his service had been earlier.