by Paul Anlee
“Don’t worry. I won’t make you suffer as long as Kathy did. I simply want you to experience the fear she felt. The fear of knowing you are going to die, and there’s nothing you can do.”
Alum roared his frustration, leaped from his chair, and charged at the scientist. Greg disappeared, and Alum slammed into the pillar where his target had been.
“Looking for me?” The voice came from behind him, a few meters away.
Alum wheeled.
“What?” Greg taunted. “You mean to say, you thought to install a shifter in your Angels but not in yourself?” His eyes narrowed. “Pity. It’s so useful.”
He shifted behind Alum and pulled the younger man back into his chair.
Alum gasped and his eyes widened. He shot out his hands to steady himself and bumped the stub of his little finger. He cried out in shock.
Greg swiveled the chair back into position and pinned Alum to the desk with it.
BAM, BAM, BAM, BAM! The sound of someone pounding on the office door startled them both.
“Alum? Sir?” Trillian shouted from the reception area. “Are you alright?”
“Jo—” Alum called out.
Greg clapped a hand over the Director’s mouth before he could complete the name. His captive squirmed and struggled.
Greg held firm. He leaned in and put his mouth close to Alum’s ear. His voice came out in a harsh whisper.
“I condemn you to death. For the murder of my wife, for the murder of Kathy Liang, and of DAR-K, for the murder of millions of Cybrids, and for the murder of billions on Earth, I condemn you to death.”
The loud banging intensified. Other guards joined Trillian’s efforts. The door’s heavy construction—having been reinforced with steel since the day DAR-K had pushed through it like it was made of matchsticks—didn’t budge.
Realizing his rescuers couldn’t get to him, Alum struggled in earnest.
Greg let go of the man’s mouth, pushed his head against the desk and held him there.
Alum called out again. “John, it’s G...aaaagh!” The name turned into an unintelligible scream as Greg shifted Alum’s tongue somewhere far away.
The Director’s mouth filled with blood. It ran over his lips and pooled on the polished mahogany veneer of his desk.
“Don’t worry. It’s almost over. I, Greg Mahajani, condemn you to die for your crimes against humanity and against those I loved. If I could send you to Hell for eternity and watch you writhe in agony every day, it wouldn’t be enough.”
He paused, searching for other words, words that could express his hatred, his fury. Nothing came. He was done.
He stared at his hands pinning Alum’s head to the bloody surface of the desk. The man’s eyes were closed and he’d stopped struggling.
He’s turned off his fear—Greg realized. Along with his survival instinct. Punishing the man further would be pointless. No point in prolonging this any further.
The scientist extended a field into Alum’s body and shifted the man’s heart and brain into the fiery core of the distant sun. The man’s lifeless body slumped onto the desktop.
Greg swallowed the sour taste rising in his throat.
I did it. We have our revenge, and hope for a better future.
As the office door burst open, Greg/Darak shifted home.
34
The phone rang at 6:00 the next morning, waking Greg from a deep slumber.
“Darak, it’s John Trillian,” said a voice at the other end of the line.
“Hey, John,” Greg mumbled.
“I know it’s a little early, but Alum wants to see us. How soon can you make it to his office?”
“Sorry, I’m not fully awake. Could you repeat that, please? Alum wants to see us?” Greg sat up, fully alert. His heart pounded.
“Yes. Can you meet me at Reception in thirty minutes?”
“Uhh, yeah, sure. Can we make it forty-five?” Greg asked, shaking the blurriness from his vision.
He almost never slept these days; his lattice didn’t need it. Last night, he’d allowed his grief to take over. He’d finished most of a bottle of whiskey and wallowed in deep despair before deactivating most of his lattice and falling into bed around eight-thirty.
That doesn’t make sense. Am I still dreaming? Alum can’t be alive. Was it all a dream? Did I dream everything yesterday?
No, the memories were real. He could feel them in a corner of his brain, where he’d stuffed them until he could deal with them.
I should feel great after so much sleep—he thought. Instead, he felt like crawling in a hole and withdrawing from the world for a year.
Nevertheless, he dragged himself through shaving and showering, and put on clean clothes. His mind still reeled, which didn’t help his stomach get through breakfast.
He stumbled out of his building and took the pedestrian walkway toward the Administration Tower.
This doesn’t make sense. I killed Alum. He died in front of me. How can he be calling for a meeting?
And why’s Trillian acting like he doesn’t know Alum’s dead? He and the security team were bursting through the office door as I shifted out. They didn’t see me, but they couldn’t have missed Alum’s body.
It has to be a trap. Did they catch me on camera? No, that can’t be it. If they knew, they wouldn’t have called; they would’ve just stormed my apartment.
Maybe Trillian’s calling me to the office to share the news of Alum’s death before it goes public, and he doesn’t want to risk saying anything over the comm lines. Except, why call me? That doesn’t make sense. Better to play along, and see what I can learn.
He met John Trillian right on time outside of Alum’s office. The Receptionist ushered the two of them inside.
Alum rose from behind his desk and stepped around to greet them with a warm smile and an outstretched hand.
Greg/Darak slammed a lid on his emotions. To give any hint of surprise would be admitting he knew something about the previous day. Resulting in my death sentence.
How is this possible? I sent the man’s heart and brain into the depths of the sun. Yet, here he is, standing in front of me, looking as smug and happy as ever.
Greg’s eyes drifted toward Alum’s right pinkie.
Stop!—he ordered himself Bring the man’s face and entire hand into perspective slowly, naturally. If Alum’s using his lattice, he’ll pick up on any micromovements.
Beneath a calm exterior, Greg forced himself to relax, breathe, and think of “normal” reactions. Smile back. Shake hands. Say good morning.
“Good morning, sir,” he delivered with negligible tremor or, at least, no more tremor than one might expect from someone summoned to the Director’s office at six in the morning. He hoped.
“Good morning, Darak. John.” Alum shook hands with the two men and motioned for them to take a seat on the sofa.
Informal chat, then—Greg thought. Now that he’d managed the initial shock, he took better stock of the Director.
The man looked…different. More vibrant. Younger!
Greg compared his detailed memory of Alum’s features with the man sitting opposite him.
This man has a smoother complexion. No sign of tiny wrinkles, and none of the minor scars Alum picked up as a boy.
This is not the man I killed last night.
And yet, here he was. And he was undeniably Alum.
Alum sat, his hands on his knees, leaning forward, an expectant grin on his face. He gave Greg and Trillian time to take a good look at him.
Finally, he chuckled. “You two are so funny. You try to hide it, but you both look so confused. What’s different? What’s going on?”
“I don’t understand, sir,” Trillian said.
“Ah, John. Look at me, look closely. Don’t I seem a little different to you?” Alum stood and twirled once around, hands held out to the side.
“Well,” Trillian answered cautiously. “You do seem to be in an exceptionally good mood. Yesterday went well, didn’t it?”
“Yes, John. Yesterday went very well.”
He turned to the other man. “Why don’t you give it a try, Darak? Do you notice anything different?”
“Well, I could ask if you had your hair cut,” Greg/Darak replied, “but I think it’s something a little more extensive. Have you had some work done?”
“Ha, ha!” Alum chortled, but the sound was closer to barking than laughter. “Work done? No. Tell me, John. Have I had any time to get any cosmetic work done?”
“No, sir. But you do look a little...younger.”
Alum and Trillian exchanged knowing glances, and broke out laughing.
Alum peered at Greg intensely for a few seconds.
Greg returned the stare. He did his best to look uncomfortable but innocent of whatever Alum suspected.
Finally, Alum sat back. “It’s not you.”
Greg relaxed ever so carefully, only beneath the surface. Maintaining a look of confusion, he forced himself not to sit back and release the underlying tension in his facial muscles. Alum would notice if he gave away any sign of guilt. He smiled uncertainly, spread his hands, and asked, “What’s not me?”
“I was killed last night,” Alum said without emotion.
Greg gasped. React normally—he reminded himself. This is big news. Astounding news. “What? But, you’re right here. What do you mean? How?” he sputtered.
“Someone broke into this office and took my life last night,” Alum explained.
Greg felt as genuinely puzzled as he looked.
“Took one of my lives, I should say.” Alum raised a suggestive eyebrow and waited for Greg/Darak to catch up.
Greg understood immediately, but kept the look of recognition from surfacing in Darak’s eyes for a few seconds.
“Every critical resource should be backed up, don’t you agree?” Trillian said. A sly smile grew on his lips.
Greg allowed Darak’s eyes to widen with understanding. “Oh! You had a backup? That’s great! I didn’t realize that was possible.”
Alum stood and walked to the window. “Backups,” he corrected, holding one finger in the air. “Plus, distributed mentation.”
“I’m not sure I understand, sir,” Greg said.
“Trillian’s idea,” Alum answered. “Spread my mind around the solar system. I’m literally a distributed person; parts of me are in CPPUs in all of the colonies, and beyond,” he explained. His eyes shifted away to some distant, unfixed point. He offered no further information.
“Wait,” Greg said. “If you—one of you—were killed here, but your mind is everywhere, then you must know who the murderer is.”
Alum’s eyes bore into Greg/Darak’s looking for any trace of worry or fear.
Greg was confident there was no way to link the leader’s death to him. At this point, they don’t even know for sure whether the killer was a man or a Cybrid. All they have is physical evidence, and there’s precious little of that besides the corpse.
At any rate, Darak had no reason to feel guilty, so Greg kept his face confused and questioning, concerned but innocent.
“Unfortunately, my communication with the rest of myself was temporarily interrupted,” Alum admitted. “I’m not certain how, and our Criminal Forensics Unit could not find a matching DNA sample on file. Obviously, our adversary is extremely capable. And dangerous.”
“How do you know they won’t try again?”
“What would be the point? The moment I make a public appearance, the killer will know their assassination attempt was futile. It will always be futile. I can’t be killed.”
Greg let that sink in. Can’t be killed. Pointless to try. He imagined that the Darak that Alum and John knew would be feeling just as surprised as he himself felt, so he let some emotions out. He let his jaw drop.
What’s the point in killing this Alum when he’ll just be replaced by another body? How many backups does he have? Enough for one killing per day? Per hour? And even if I killed every one of his bodies, he’d still live on inside the CPPUs.
Greg felt defeated, but buried the feeling. He couldn’t let himself give in to it. There was too much at stake.
He manifested his best imitation of happy relief. “Well, it’s good to know you’ll be in charge for a long time, sir. We need your guidance.”
It sounded sincere, even to him.
“I know, this is not something we would normally accept in the natural course of things,” Alum replied. He sounded almost apologetic. “But, the Lord has spoken to me. These are dark times. Powerful people are scheming against our Heaven-ordained Administration. Cybernetic demons lie ready to hold us hostage to their demands. And now, an unholy adversary has risen to challenge me.”
He took a deep breath. “Times like this call for Divine Leadership, Darak. Our Lord has granted me the powers to deal with those who would stand against His People. He has brought Trillian to my side. And now He has brought you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, Darak. You.” Alum stepped to a spot within arm’s reach. “Your work with the battle simulations enabled John and I to fine tune the fighting skills of our Angels. The Angels removed most of the threat from the Cybrid population. I want the rest of that threat eliminated. Forever.”
“You want to destroy them all?”
“No, no. They’re still a useful tool. Yeshua’s People need them. We need them in space to explore, to mine, and to build for us. But they’ve proven they are untrustworthy. We must never allow opposition from them again.
“That’s why I want you to work closely with John. I want you to find ways to detect rebellious tendencies in the Cybrid minds. And when you find them, I want you to excise them. Cut them out like the cancer they are!”
What would Darak say to that? Greg had no idea. He winged it. “I’ll do my best, sir,” was all he could manage.
Alum clapped him on the shoulder. “You do that! I see a bright future for you, Darak. For both you and John. In a few days, we’ll round up the other traitors and publicly execute them. My people, those loyal to me and to the Church, will know they are safe. Safe in our Lord’s loving hands.”
“Amen,” John Trillian added with disturbing enthusiasm.
Greg/Darak rushed to add his own, “Amen” before Trillian’s was finished.
“I’ll be in touch later today with some ideas. You can begin work tomorrow.”
Alum accompanied the two men to the door and closed it softly behind them. He had his own work to do.
Addressing his people through his lattice, he declared the day a public holiday, a day of celebration of freedom from the tyranny of the machines. He allowed a small number of trusted Cybrids, closely monitored by supervisory Angels, to clean the streets and parks of the debris from the Cybrid Grand March.
Greg left the building and wandered aimlessly along the streets of Vesta One. Seeking somewhere better to deal with his storming emotions, he shifted to his favorite forest trail in Ceres Two.
As he shuffled along the path, his mind couldn’t let go of what Alum had said. “I can’t be killed...”
The man has become a Living God—he said to himself in amazement, hardly believing the steps Alum had taken
He played the sound bite over and over. When sleep finally claimed him later that night, the words “Living God” and “Can’t be killed” haunted his dreams.
Points to Ponder
Book Club & Study Questions
The Deplosion series is intended
to be more than just a story. I hope it inspires thinking and exchange on a variety of philosophical, religious, scientific, and social issues. The following questions will help get you started. Additional discussion can be found on the Paul Anlee Facebook page, and on my science and philosophy blog at www.paulanlee.com.
1) Over the course of the series, I’ve claimed that the mental structures of thinking beings, whether embodied in biological or semiconductor computers, are largely equivalent. Do you think the human mental process can be modeled outs
ide of the human brain? Do you think we’ll ever develop a good understanding of human intelligence, and be able to program something smarter? What do you see as possible limitations?
2) What is required to be accepted as “human?” Do you think being “human” means having two arms and two legs, human genes, being fully biological (or to what extent)? Or is “human” more in the mind than in the body?
3) Alum takes his first step toward “godhood” by expanding and spreading his intelligence throughout the machinery of the Vesta colonies. Is godhood a reflection of ultimate knowledge and intelligence, or does God have unique powers beyond perhaps even His own understanding? If so, where would those have come from? Does humanity have the potential to achieve godhood (in whatever form you choose)? Or is it a state we can never achieve no matter how smart we become? Does God understand everything He does? If so, could He teach us or some sufficiently smart version of us?
4) Another important theme in the Deplosion series is the relationship between politics and economics. Alum describes how money has gone from once being a relatively simple medium of exchange of goods and services, to being a tool with which to exert one’s power. He says,
“In ancient days, strong armies would arrive at the doors of the weak and the innocent, demanding their taxes. They would use force to lay claim to land on which families had hunted and farmed freely for generations. We called them kings or lords, though they were no better than thugs and extortionists. ... Over time, the wicked expanded their preposterous claims of ownership over the land God gave to all. They built factories, limiting what could be manufactured, where, and by whom. They claimed ownership over all of our works, and returned a pittance to those who performed the labor.”
Does this seem like a fair assessment of the origin of both government and capitalism to you? Or is it too simplistic? Both ancient and modern governments provide protective services to their citizens (presumably from marauding thieves), and extract taxes in return for their protection. This protection is based on geography rather than proven need. Is that a reasonable basis for being under the “rule” of a select few people?