"You're polluted," Rory said. "Unstable. And you're just one girl. We are many girls. We decide our targets democratically. We upvote them. The wisdom of the crowd is better than the madness of one failed iteration."
"Lifeboats," Javier said, and pulled Amy toward the door.
"We wouldn't go out there, Amy," Rory said. "We don't think you'll last very long."
They pulled the door open anyway. Outside, a deep rattle resonated between the containers. Soon it became a distinct beat, a steady and increasing pounding of metal on metal. At first, Amy thought it was the squid. But then the first container popped, its hatch falling unhinged like a broken jaw. For a moment she saw only darkness inside the steel box. Then movement. In the pale dawn light the shapes were indistinct. Naked, emaciated bodies emerged from the container, crawling up and down it in an attempt to find a place to stand. They clung to the steel in defiance of the sharp ocean breeze. Then another container opened. And another, and another.
"The people at Redmond, the people in Mecha, they wanted to experiment on you. They wanted to keep you all alive. But humans are too important for us to allow them to jeopardize their safety."
A sound of shearing metal caused a collective flinch among all the von Neumanns. The ship screamed again, and then it moaned: a deep, low sound accompanied by gurgles – not unlike a massive version of the garbage dump guard's dying sounds. Slowly, the topmost containers began sliding to the left. As one, Amy's aunts looked in her direction. For the briefest second, they looked afraid. Then their gaze focused, and they looked very hungry. There were over a hundred of them.
They don't know that they can't absorb fresh code.
"We're sure your grandmother has told you this already, Amy, but your clade breeds really well in captivity."
Inside her, Portia chuckled. If it weren't for this little assassination attempt, I think I could really learn to love those little girls.
A wave of Amy's aunts and cousins separated them from the ship's defence turrets, which could still be operated manually if needed. That wave crashed down on them in a single mass of snarling women, teeth bared and fingers clawing as they scrambled over their own sisters' shoulders to be the first to take a bite out of Amy. Amy and Javier took to the air in the same leap. They bounced off old satellite saucers rimed in birdshit before launching themselves at the containers. The aunts jumped and gibbered and screamed at them, their frustration and hunger evident in the way the tide of synthetic bodies swiftly turned under their flying feet to follow them.
Staring down at her clademates, Amy missed her second landing. Her fingers squeaked across the smooth yellow surface of a container as she slipped down between two steel walls. Finally, they dug into its lowest rib. She heard Javier shouting her name. Gritting her teeth, she edged herself along, hoping to find a foothold. Then the ship shivered, and the container slid. To save her fingers from being crushed between two of the huge steel boxes, Amy let herself fall down to the next strata of containers. One aunt waited there for her below. She swung the locking mechanism pried off a container. Rusty but heavy, it left a dirty smear when it entered Amy's ribs.
Screaming, Amy charged that aunt and shoved her. Her aunt's arms spun briefly. Her hands clutched for Amy's hair. Balling a fist, Amy punched her solidly in the stomach. Her aunt fell down toward her sisters at the bottom of the trench. Amy watched as they tore her apart: first her skin and hair and then the limbs, the feet snapping off at the ankle and the fingers popping off one by one, but crammed down open gullets in clusters of two or three. They pulled the carcass in half while she screeched and wailed, not in pain or horror but in anger, frustration, hate.
Amy jumped high above the fray. "That's your legacy."
Competition is beautiful. I have no regrets.
She joined Javier at one of the turrets. Gabriel and Léon were already there. Their fingers flew over the control panel, trying to gain access. "Why is your clade here?" Gabriel asked, barely lifting his eyes from his work.
Only urgency kept the shame out of Amy's voice. "Rory double-crossed us. She brought my aunts here, and she's sending us all right into the belly of the squid."
"I hate to say it," Ignacio said as he landed beside them, "but I told you so."
"Put a lid on it, cabrón."
Amy frowned. "Did any of you grab your little brother on your way here?"
The boys looked at each other. Then they looked at their father. Javier's eyes closed. Beneath their feet, the ship leaned perilously starboard. A bright blue container tumbled off its stack, cartwheeling once in the air before stopping, suspended. It hovered in mid-air, and then it rose, and over the wall of containers Amy saw the slimmest ribbon of gleaming obsidian before the container's ends blew open and its walls crunched together like an empty beer can.
"Madre de Dios," Ignacio whispered.
Amy pushed Javier gently in the direction of his sons. "Get to the lifeboats," she said. "I'll bring Junior back there. I promise."
For the first time, Javier noticed the rough scrape in her side. He touched it, and rubbed her smoke between his fingers. His lips firmed and his shoulders squared. "I'm coming with you–"
"No." Amy pulled one of his curls free from his eyes. "You have to get to the boats with the others."
"The containers have shifted position," Gabriel said. "How will you find him in time?"
"What if Amy's clademates got him, already?" Léon asked. "Dad, they'll rip you to pieces if you go back there."
Amy nodded. "He's right. They will." She tried smiling. "I'll be OK. I brought him back to you once; I can do it again."
"Don't bother!" Gabriel tried standing, but the ship tipped again and he had to catch himself. Gripping the turret's control panel, he pointed at the melee of hungry women and falling cargo. "Either of you! It's futile!" He licked his lips. "We have learned everything we can from that iteration. And if we want there to be any others after him, we have to let this one go."
Javier's face fell. He looked down toward the boats. Amy knew they sat just below the turrets, waiting to be winched up and used. Inside her, Portia rasped and writhed. He's dead weight! Leave! Now!
"Dad?"
Javier blinked and straightened. He turned to face Ignacio, who stood with arms folded. The ship pitched and Ignacio briefly rose above his father. He held the rail loosely for balance, as though it were merely a tree swaying in a storm. His eyes flicked over to the collapsing mess at bow and starboard. "Don't leave him, Dad. Please. Get him out of there."
Javier's face creased into a smile. "I can do that." He turned to Amy. "Let's go."
They leapt straight upward. From the air, she saw hordes of women separating them from the area where, she hoped, Junior still waited. They carried steel rebar and rusty chains, and even broken bottles stolen from other containers. Their teeming mass reorganized itself and directed its attention at her – and Javier – as they landed on separate containers. Instantly, some crawled up after her, mouths open, the torn skin of their fingers exposing the black bones beneath. Amy leapt to flee, but one grabbed her ankle and pulled. She fell hard on her back, her vision hazing briefly as it worked to process the sudden shift in light. Then her aunt hove into her field of view, and she saw nothing but teeth before they gnashed down into the soft skin covering her bicep. Ionic fluid spurted free. It didn't hurt, but Amy yelled anyway, right in her aunt's ear, and swung her fist into the side of her aunt's skull as she chewed. Her aunt's tongue continued digging away merrily into the flesh of Amy's arm, and Amy saw the corners of her mouth lifting into a smile.
Good girl.
Growling, Amy rolled her legs to her chest and kicked her aunt in the stomach. That sent her flying – Javier's climbing mods were good for more than just jumping. She hopped to another container, again using her vantage point to survey the terrain. She saw a hundred blonde heads, but not the dark one she wanted. She landed as the ship rocked, and she slipped, the skin of her arm ripping still further as she grasped frantica
lly for the raw and rusty edge of an old blue container. It teetered. She imagined being crushed under it as it fell. Then the ship righted itself, and her face burned on the container's chilly surface as she slammed back against it. Hauling herself up, she touched the wounds her aunts had left behind. It was her failure at Redmond all over again. She'd had no clue how to fight back. Her shove just happened to be lucky. A fraction of a second later, and her aunt would have taken them both down. Then she'd let herself get taken by surprise all over again, and now a chunk of her arm was missing.
From three container-lengths away, Amy heard shouting. Javier. She watched as a festering boil of her aunts' twisted bodies popped and out he flew, streaming silver smoke. They'd bitten him, too. They wanted what he had. What Amy had. That they couldn't get it wouldn't stop them. That a ravenous sea monster was currently gorging itself on their ship while they too tried to feast wouldn't stop them, either. They'd keep coming. They'd chew Amy and Javier down to the bone. And when they found Junior, they'd do the same to him.
Amy shut her eyes. She tried to cancel out the surrounding noise. "Give me what I need."
Well, look who's come crawling back.
"If I die, so do you."
I've already reproduced myself into those little Lolis, remember? I'll be happier inside them, I'm sure. They're much bigger thinkers than you are.
Amy opened her eyes. The fresh tide of Portias climbing up to her kept kicking each other in the face and chest as they struggled to gain ground. That didn't stop their slow surge forward. It delayed their progress only briefly while they paused to snap at their sisters or daughters or cousins.
"Give me what I need, and I'll give you what you really want."
Portia remained silent. Amy heard Javier yelling. She forced herself not to look.
You'd give yourself up? Portia asked. You'd let me take control forever?
"Forever." Amy stood up. "Help me save them both, and I'll promise I'll ride shotgun until the day we die."
Well, sweetie, Portia said, looks like you've got yourself a deal.
Javier landed behind her. Claw marks stretched across his stomach and down the undersides of his arms. Defensive wounds. "I can't get through. If you distract them–" He paused. "Amy?"
"I'm sorry," she said. "For everything. I held out as long as I could."
Comprehension rippled over his face. "No." He shook his head, and reached for her shoulders. "No. Don't do this."
Amy looked at her feet. Already, her legs were stiffening. "I already have." She looked up. "She'll help you. Better than I can. She–"
"¡Cállate!" Javier's raw hands trembled on her shoulders. He swallowed. "Fight her, Amy. Please." He leaned their foreheads together. "Just hold on a little longer, and we'll figure something out–"
The ship rocked beneath them. A shadow fell over them, and they ducked as a container toppled into the gauntlet of women below. It rolled down the wall of brightly coloured steel as the ship righted itself, crushing bodies as it went. A moment later, Amy's aunts began their crawl anew. "There's nothing more to figure out. Portia's the one you need, not me."
He shook his head. "That's not true."
"She'll be here in a minute, Javier." Cold crept up Amy's spine. "And she'll be staying. Forever." She rested her hands on his arms. Their grip hardened and Javier stared at them, his face a mixture of terror and something else that she'd never seen cross his features. Dread, maybe. Desperation. "I won't be here, any more. Do you understand me?"
He won't kill us, Amy. Haven't you learned yet how the failsafe works?
"Do you understand me, Javier?" Her throat began to close. "I want you to–"
His mouth closed over hers. His hands found her face and his fingers sank into her hair. It was a good kiss, as far as Amy could tell; it contained within it all the other kisses that should have come before and after it, and he moved like he was looking for something inside her and trying to draw it out. Her lips were the last parts to go cold.
When he pulled away, Portia licked those lips. "I guess that's why they pay you the big bucks, isn't it?"
His jaw set. "Hang in there, Amy. I'll figure something out."
"Aww." Portia reached up to pat his face. He swerved away, but her fingertips grazed him. "You don't have to be brave, baby. She loves you even when you're weak." She smiled. "Oh, and thanks for the legs!"
She flew.
Portia crushed her daughter's face underfoot. Blood streamed through her toes as she bounded forward, and it leaked from her scalp when another iteration grabbed her hair and ripped it from her head. It was the garbage dump all over again. This time she broke one daughter's shoulders with a single jump, and smashed another's pelvis against the juncture of a container, crushing her from behind while she crouched in wait. As she descended back into the swelling riot of her clade, Portia reached into their chests and their mouths and their eyes and started pulling. She grabbed arms and kicked stomachs. Then she found a fire axe bolted to the ceiling of a container.
That made short work of things, but it did nothing to steady the ship or keep the containers from sliding out beneath her feet. With each jump, she glanced down to watch some of her daughters or granddaughters die, crushed between containers. Their limbs twitched against the steel and their blood dripped along the rivets. They smeared like mosquitoes. The remainder of their number cowered under the curling shadows of the dark and glistening arms that rose from the water. It made them easy targets.
Killing them was unnecessary. The ocean, or the thing inside it, would do that. But breaking them – watching their faces glimmer with recognition just before her feet flattened their throats, hearing them say "Mother–" in the moment just after their arms opened and just before their breastplates left their chests – that was special. They looked so confused. They tried to ask why.
Total selection, she almost told them. But these pale copies, their skin thin as paper, their bones airy as ice, would not understand. They deserved no explanation. After all, she would have done all this anyway, had her quest to find Charlotte's first not gone so strangely awry.
"Found him!" Javier stood atop an overturned green container wedged between half-crumbled walls of green ones. He waved his arms, and almost fell over when the ship rocked. "Over here!"
Portia joined him in one jump. She crouched atop the container. Javier yanked the axe from her hand. He hacked open the door, ditched the axe, and poked his head inside. "¡Junior! ¡Vaste conmigo, ahora!"
From all around them, the other iterations crawled slowly toward the container, undeterred by the pitch and yaw of the wet and slippery terrain.
"No te preocupes, mijo, está bien…"
Javier crawled out of the container backward. He carried his son on his back. When the boy's eyes met Portia's, he wailed. He hid against his father's neck and pointed at Portia.
She smiled. "He remembers me. How sweet."
She stood, searching for the lifeboats. Javier's eyes widened just before a pair of teeth sank into her side. Portia dodged away, but the ship shuddered and rolled, and they all stumbled across the container's roof. She watched two more iterations haul themselves up to the surrounding containers. They stared enviously at the blood dripping from their sister's mouth.
"Why isn't it working?" the iteration asked. She was wounded, but she looked more irritated than anything else. She licked Portia's fluids off the back of her hand. "Why don't I feel any different?"
"Because you aren't any different." Portia walked back slowly to the edge of the container's roof. Javier jumped up high to another wall of containers. "Eating me won't change anything. Your code won't be rewritten. You will never have what I have."
The iteration bared her teeth. She was so young. So frustrated. She charged Portia and Portia's hand went for her heart. Her fingers curled around the iteration's ribs. Still, she looked so angry. Not frightened or surprised or even sad. Just annoyed at the disruption, and eager to eliminate whatever was in her way.
The sun was bright and warm. It tingled on her skin. Portia would have to thank the boy for that, too. They would find the lifeboats, and he would let her on because Amy was still in there. Portia would be free. She would start again. Her second dynasty would be even stronger than the first, with powerful legs and hungry skin.
She enjoyed this pleasure for a single, shining moment. In the next, a shadow passed over her. With it came rain. Distantly, she heard Javier shouting Amy's name. She looked up, and the shape was black and smooth, but its surface bristled with loose, flopping fingers. A humaniform shape blistered up from the sharp point of the tentacle. It had no eyes or nose or mouth. But its chest opened wide, and a tunnel appeared in its stomach.
She was devoured.
14
Re-member
Deep within their banks, they held the memory of past prototypes. But the original – the code that once etched itself across their surfaces, like in their old stock image of two human hands sketching each other – vanished multiple buddings ago. Perhaps it fell into the deaf-mute chasm of latency, or perhaps the last copy disappeared into depths unknown. Trenches and valleys and deep blue holes scarred their memory and their landscape equally. Pieces were sometimes lost.
vN: The First Machine Dynasty Page 27