by Paul Anlee
Nigel Hodge stood up and slammed his stylus onto the table in front of him, startling everyone from the captivating scene playing out in front of them.
“Look, I hate to break up this happy little reunion, but could someone please explain to me what the bloody hell is going on?” he snapped.
“Oh, Nigel, sit down,” Strang huffed. “Isn’t it obvious? It would seem that Dr. Mahajani managed to escape Earth before the Eater destroyed it. He’s just realized that DAR-K carries the mind of his deceased wife, Kathy Liang.”
“Why, that’s incredible! How did you escape?” Hodge demanded. “Did you steal a rocket? Did you find last-minute Redemption and join the Church?”
Greg burst out laughing. “No, certainly not the latter, I assure you.”
“You shifted,” DAR-K suggested.
If a Cybrid sphere could convey a wry smile, or amazement and appreciation, Darak would’ve frozen time to bask a moment longer in that gaze.
“He...what? He shifted? What’s that?” Hodge demanded.
“It’s how you got here,” Greg said. “It’s how you move between asteroid habitats.”
“Those are miracles of Our Lord,” Cutter interjected.
“Before they were miracles, they were technology,” Greg answered. “I should know. I developed it.”
“Preposterous!” Hodge protested.
“Despite what you may believe, it’s true,” DAR-K said. “Greg invented what you think of as the starstep.”
She turned to Greg. “I presume you managed to obtain your own private pair of entangled particles to make the shift here. That doesn’t surprise me. I am surprised you didn’t bring anyone else with you. Or did you?” There was a hopeful tremor in her voice.
Greg’s head dropped. “No. I wasn’t able to save anyone else. The shift generator is built into my head. I can’t make a field big enough to include anyone besides me. And it all happened so fast; I didn’t have enough time to get to you—to the original Kathy—before the Eater took her.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I really am.”
Greg stared at the floor, reliving the horror of the day. It didn’t help that Kathy’s voice had been so perfectly reproduced by the two-meter carboceramic sphere carrying her persona.
The emotional wound caused by her death was still too fresh. He missed her; every waking moment, he missed her. He longed for the simple comfort of her company, to talk, to hear her laugh, to feel her hand in his. A stainless steel-composite tentacle, activated by nanoelectric motors would never be the same.
Strang spoke gently into the prolonged silence. “You said maybe you could help us. How?”
Greg pulled himself from his grief and took a deep breath. “You may not know that I sort of work for Alum now. Well, for John Trillian, really.”
“What do you mean, ‘sort of work’ for Alum?” DAR-K asked, ignoring the panicked glances around the table.
“I designed the Cybrid inworld you know as Vacationland,” Greg answered. “Maybe you’ve seen it?”
“Yes, it’s been out for a few months. It raised quite a stir when it debuted. I’m sure by now almost everyone’s seen it,” DAR-K said. “I should have recognized your work. It’s impressive; some of your best coding.”
“Thanks. Unfortunately, it’s being used like Rome used the Coliseum.”
“Keep the masses well-entertained and you never have to worry about them organizing a rebellion,” Strang said.
“Exactly. But that’s not why I made it.”
“Why did you make it?” DAR-K asked.
“To help the Cybrids reconnect with their humanity. Sure, it’s fun and relaxing, and Cybrids should have someplace pleasant to go for downtime. Vacationland provides an outlet for the part of the Cybrid brain that’s thoroughly human. To walk along a beach, to eat at a nice restaurant, to swim in the waters that gave birth to life on Earth—those are all human indulgences.”
Strang stood and offered his hand to Greg. “I’m happy to finally meet you in person, Mr. Legsu. I suppose it really shouldn’t surprise me to learn that Darak Legsu and Greg Mahajani are one and the same. I’ve been told your Vacationland is quite brilliant.”
“Thanks. It’s nice to be appreciated.”
An impatient Hodge jumped in, “I’m so happy for you all, but have you forgotten this man works for Alum?”
Greg frowned. “He didn’t exactly offer me the job; more like, he conscripted me to make more inworlds like Vacationland. I guess I could’ve revealed myself as Greg Mahajani, fled, and lived a life outside the system. Somehow, that wasn’t terribly appealing. So I embraced a cover identity and took the job. It seemed like it might give me the chance to do some good. Now, I’m not so sure.”
“Why? What happened?” DAR-K asked.
“Well, Alum cancelled the Securitor program right after your, uhm, audience with him.” Greg winced, then smiled. “That was an impressive bit of political theater, by the way.”
DAR-K bobbed in acknowledgement.
“But over the past month, he and Trillian have got me working on a battle-training inworld, which is weird given there are no Securitors to train in it.
“Even stranger, I’ve been working with a synthetic, stripped-down Cybrid mind as the main inworld character, and Trillian has been tweaking what little remains of the original persona.”
DAR-K moved forward a little. “Tweaking?”
“Yeah, but we’re only working with a bare bones persona, not a full one. It’s hard to see any ethical issues.”
“Hmm,” DAR-K’s response indicated neither agreement nor dispute.
“As far as I can tell, all he’s done is increase some factors related to honor, duty, loyalty, that kind of thing. At first, it made no sense. The Securitor program has been cancelled. Why work on a concepta structure like that at all, and why would we be putting it through training for battle conditions?”
“If Alum has lied to me, he will pay dearly,” DAR-K threatened.
“He hasn’t lied. Not exactly,” Greg replied. “He just hasn’t been completely forthcoming.”
“What do you mean?” Strang asked.
“I saw no evidence of any Securitors under construction. However, I did find something that could be worse.”
“What could be any more of an abomination than a Securitor?” DAR-K had moved around the table and was only a few meters from Greg now.
“Let me show you.” Greg sent a short video of the robotic Angel he’d discovered to everyone’s inSense lattice.
“What in heaven’s name…?” Hodge had remained standing throughout the conversation. On seeing the video, he set his seat back on all four legs and dropped into it, deflated.
“There is more of hell than heaven in that design, if you ask me,” Strang exclaimed. “It may have been based on a classic Angelic body type, but I get the sense their purpose is otherwise. Especially given the cancellation of the Security program, and what you’ve mentioned about Trillian doing a little tweaking.”
“I don’t think this is the only one. The design and construction seems too well advanced. I suspect Alum is building an army of such Angels. And I have reason to believe they’ll be armed with tunnel-drilling energy beams,” Greg added.
“Those would be too dangerous inside a habitat,” DAR-K pointed out. “They’d blast a hole in the walls. Millions would die in minutes.”
“I agree. So, if their weapons are only useful in space, would Cybrids be their intended target? That worries me even more.”
“Whoa! That’s a lot of speculation. Let’s not get too carried away here. Maybe Alum’s building a force that can defend the habitats from an invasion from space,” Cutter suggested.
“Fair enough. And I might believe that if the battle simulation included more scenarios outside the habitats and service tunnels,” Greg countered. “But there are precious few like that and all of them are in close proximity to the asteroids, not in deep space. Doesn’t that seem a little suspicious to you?”
“What you’ve shown us is fascinating and frightening,” Strang said. “But what does this have to do with our discussion? How does it help us?”
“If you can get word out about this, people will see Alum’s true nature and intentions. They’ll see his desire to become dictator by force, if necessary. It will change their minds about him.”
“We already have enough negative facts about Alum,” Cutter jumped in, a sour look on her face. “We can’t use any of them. This falls into the same category.”
Faces around the table echoed her distaste over the political necessity.
Encouraged, Cutter continued. “And what makes you think any negative narrative would matter to Alum’s fans, anyway? At least, to those who call themselves the true believers? History is filled with populist autocratic leaders whose followers willingly—no, make that merrily—waltzed right into a horrible dictatorship, cheering all the way.”
“Maybe we can entice him into revealing the Angels before the election,” Thurgood suggested.
“That might work, especially if he used them in the habitats,” DAR-K said. “But he would never do that.”
“Not even for the Grand March?” Thurgood countered.
“There’ll be so many of us in the skies, there’s no way he could fire a tunnel-drilling beam safely.”
“What Grand March?” Greg asked.
DAR-K explained her plan to get Cybrids the vote. “We were planning to gather outside the habitats, and then stream in together through the main polar entrances.”
“Gathered like that, it would be easy to label your show of force as a threat, plus, you’ll be vulnerable to the Angels.”
“You’re right. We’ll have to change our plans. Maybe seep into the habitats through the service tunnels, and draw into formation near the caps.”
“At least that would circumvent an Angel attack in space.”
“And once we’re inside the habitats, they wouldn’t dare use driller beams.” DAR-K moved a few centimeters closer.
Greg could sense her uncertainty. “What is it?”
“We’ve been planning for me to run as opposition candidate for President. But I’ve been thinking, why don’t you run in the election with me?” DAR-K proposed. “We did make a great team for twenty years.”
“Excuse me. I’m the Vice-President candidate,” Humphrey protested.
Before Greg could respond, Strang jumped to DAR-K’s defense.
“Surely, Stephen, you can see that Dr. Mahajani’s experience with the colonies, along with his clearly superior intellect, would serve the people better in these difficult times.”
Greg had no interest in starting a political feud within a group of people he’d only just met, and chimed in quickly.
“I’m not much of a politician, anyway. I was always more of a background support kind of guy. And no one here would recognize me as Greg Mahajani so there’s really nothing I bring to the table by virtue of my face or name. “Thank you, but I’d prefer to let Mr. Humphrey’s name stand. I think he has the experience for the job.”
The ruffled politician sat back in his chair, torn between victory and continuing indignation. “Thank you,” he said.
“Besides, I’m stuck in this job with Trillian for the foreseeable future, unless anyone can see a good way out. I think I could be more valuable where I am.”
“That’s settled, then,” Strang concluded, surveying the table for any objections. He checked the time.
“Thank you, everyone. We’ve gone a little later than planned. I know Mr. Hodge and Ms. Cutter have appointments to dash off to. We’re making good progress, but we have a lot to prepare for with the Cybrid Grand March in one week. We’ll meet for a quick update next Tuesday. If there are no further points for discussion, I move we adjourn. Thank you for seconding, Priyam. All in favor? It’s unanimous, then. We are adjourned until Tuesday.”
Hodge and Cutter rushed out, chatting intensely in hushed voices. The other attendees shuffled out of the room, casting suspicious glances backward. Strang hung back with DAR-K and Greg.
“I just wanted to say welcome to our little opposition, Dr. Mahajani...Mr. Legsu,” Strang said to Greg. “Er, which do you prefer?”
“I’m Darak Legsu, now,” Greg replied. “Let’s stick to that.”
“Very well,” Strang answered, and pumped Greg’s hand enthusiastically one more time. “Now, I’ll leave you two on your own to chat.”
He glanced sidelong at DAR-K, muttered something Greg couldn’t make out, and followed the others out.
Greg looked wistfully at DAR-K. He tried to imagine the face of the woman he’d loved for over twenty years in place of the dull, matte surface of the sphere. Without using his lattice, he could no longer picture Kathy.
“It’s still me, Greg,” DAR-K said.
The sound of Kathy’s voice brought him to the verge of tears.
“I think we need to talk. I’d like to do it person to person, face to face, so to speak. Can you meet me at Cloud 49 inworld in Vacationland?”
“When? Now?” he asked.
“As good a time as any, don’t you think? We may not get another chance.”
Greg pulled up a chair, closed his eyes, and accessed his lattice.
I don’t know if I can do this; not sure I’m ready to face her. Couldn’t we just go out and save the world, or something easy?—he fretted, and before he could give voice to his worries, the warm, tropical breeze of Vacationland caressed his face.
25
“This is my favorite spot in Vacationland.” DAR-K took a seat at the highest table in Cloud 49.
“Mine, too,” Greg/Darak replied. “Kathy loved the view here.” He glanced hopefully at the Cybrid.
Both of them wore inworld avatars reflecting their current appearances in the real universe. Greg wore Darak’s new face, and DAR-K bore the appearance of her Cybrid trueself.
She pointedly ignored him and took in the landscape for a while.
He knew she was aware of his wistful stare; her Cybrid self was ringed with visual sensors giving her full 360° visual perception.
The Cybrid image shimmered. Greg/Darak opened his mouth to see if she was okay but the words stuck in his throat.
The shimmer resolved itself into Kathy Liang, looking exactly as she had the day the Eater took her. She turned away from the view at the edge of the floating platform and took a seat opposite Greg.
His heart raced. He allowed his own avatar, carefully selected to be used in the inworld presence of John Trillian or Alum, to change. The Greg that Kathy remembered looked back at her.
“It’s good to see you,” she said.
Watching her lips move exactly the way he remembered, made him feel weak. “You, too,” his voice quavered.
The image of Kathy smiled. “This is weird, isn’t it?”
Greg expelled the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Yes, this is very weird.”
“Okay, why don’t we start off with business? Maybe that’ll help us both to feel a little…less weird.”
Greg nodded and sat down.
“I’m sure you’ve figured out I gave my DAR-K self a little ‘something extra’ when she was constructed.”
“Do you mean the enhanced-IQ lattice? Yeah, that’s kind of obvious. You always were a little rebellious when it came to the Cybrids.”
“They…We deserved better.”
“And the rest of the committee was unreasonable. Yeah, I agree. They were shortsighted and paranoid.”
Kathy/DAR-K noted the micromovements in his face; he was holding something back. “But?” she asked with raised eyebrows.
He smiled. She’s smart. Intuitive. Direct.
“But…I have to wonder how things would have unfolded here if all the Cybrids were like you.”
“Well, for one thing, we might have been able to stop Alum and keep the original Project Management in place.”
“It looks like you’ve stopped Alum’s plans all by yoursel
f.”
“Not yet. We can hope, though.”
Greg squirmed uncomfortably. “I’m going to order something to drink. Would you like something?”
“Sure.”
A waiter appeared at the snap of Greg’s fingers and took their order. He returned a few seconds later with their drinks.
“Here’s to weird,” Greg said, lifting his glass of wine.
Kathy laughed, and tapped her glass to his. “Yes, to weird.”
They sipped their drinks appreciatively. “Mmm, every bit as good as I remember,”
“You always had a soft spot for Shiraz.”
Greg cradled his wineglass in both hands, and dropped his gaze.
“What’s wrong?” Kathy asked softly.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what? About giving my Cybrid self an enhanced IQ?”
“Yeah,” Greg answered.
Kathy let his question linger in the air a moment. “I don’t really know. I intended to; I just never got around to it. We were both so busy.”
Greg frowned. “I know. The Project was all important.”
“And then it was time for you to copy your mind into DAR-G, and all hell broke loose, and then it was too late.”
“So, DAR-G is normal, like I was before the dendy?” Greg asked.
“Yes. He’s impaired, like we both were a lifetime ago. Nothing like he should be. Could be. Nothing like you, not the real you.” Her voice shook. “It’s been hard. I can’t talk to him much; it’s not the same. It hurts.”
Greg reached across the table and took virtual Kathy’s hands in his. She sighed heavily and squeezed his hands the way she always did. His virtual heart beat faster.
She gave another squeeze and pulled her hands back. “When did you design the virus for an internal RAF generator?”
Greg grimaced; she wasn’t going to like his answer. “Remember the first Vesta Gala Ball?”
“That early?” Kathy was trying to decide if she should be angry. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Greg looked down at his feet. “That wasn’t the only thing I didn’t tell you.”
“I never liked secrets,” Kathy said, “whether mine or yours.”