by Alex Rudall
She stuck up the final grenade and sprinted straight ahead. She threw herself over a large rock, recovered her breath. Then, with a monumental final effort, she clambered up and stood on top of the rock. She would have to time it perfectly. It was not a tactic you would expect an immune to use, she hoped. That was really her only chance. She counted down from twenty, as slowly as she dared, trying not to look up at the drones appearing high overhead. She said five and stepped backwards off the rock, crouched down into a ball and said “Now.”
The flash was brighter than Jupiter. Emily deadened all their senses but Amber was still stunned by the blast and the air rushing outwards crushed her into the ground. She opened her eyes, checked that she was not actively on fire and then scrambled to her feet, staring at the burning valley, waves of heat rolling up onto her. She could not see anything except burning trees: she walked towards the flames, and then turned before she reached them to climb onto the exposed rocky side of the valley and avoid the worst of the heat.
If he had seen the trap, or if she had mistimed it, he would be able to take her out with a single shot.
When she was almost past the inferno, acrid smoke clogging the air, she saw a dark shape moving on the edge of the flames, crawling towards the scorched bushes and undergrowth. She drew her gun and dropped down, approaching slowly along the edge of the fireline.
It was unmistakably him. His equipment and skin was melting, and he seemed to have lost his left leg below the knee, but he was still moving, pulling himself along with still–strong arms.
“Hey,” she said, quietly, when she was almost on top of him, and then when he didn’t respond, did not look up, but continued pulling himself towards the unburning bushes, more loudly – “hey.”
He stopped and turned his face towards her: it was now blacker than hers, but almost featureless, nose gone and eyes melted out, lips burned away so that his teeth were showing. He snarled and turned his destroyed face back towards the treeline, pulled himself on. He had almost reached the cool of the trees. Amber shot him once in the head and went after the others.
Hardwick
The two men were running together, panting for oxygen, when the light from the explosion illuminated everything. As one they stopped and turned to look, and the heat hit them both in the face, making them stumble back.
“Yoh – was that her?” Lwazi said, lowering his arms, watching the rising flames.
“I don’t know,” Hardwick said. “Immunes tend to be quieter than that.”
“Holy god, if that was her, she must be angry,” Lwazi said, shaking his head.
“I think that’s a good assumption. How close are we?”
Lwazi checked his watch.
“We are close. Just up there.”
Lwazi pointed up the stony side of the mountain.
“She is not moving any more,” he said. Hardwick peered up, but he could not see anything amongst the walls of rock except bracken and short trees. There was a narrow waterfall cutting through one of the cliffs, the water a white spray in the light breeze. There was no way up the cliff that Hardwick could see.
“We have to find a way up,” Hardwick said. “God knows what’s happened to ITSA, but we’ve got a chance now. If we get there before the immune we might be able to double back around, or use the girl as a hostage, or something.”
“Will she just kill us?”
“Let’s hope not.”
They came to the lighthouse, tripped over empty uniforms lying on the ground like discarded skin.
Lwazi bent and picked up a belt of grenades and ammo.
“She did this,” he said.
Hardwick nodded and picked up the biggest gun he could see. They began to climb the hill.
Drones were beginning to build up again, coming lower, gradually, cautiously. Jupiter was a great white presence in the sky. It was so bright that it was getting hard to keep their eyes open. Hardwick thought he could see dark shapes charging around in the trees below them. Occasionally there were bursts of small–arms fire, but nothing like the explosion in the valley.
They were high on the hill and the wind was picking up.
Down below Hardwick saw a figure charging up the hill towards them, her shouting lost as noise in the wind. Somehow she was still here, somehow she had survived the destruction of every other ITSA soldier on the island. Mary.
Hardwick raised his huge gun to his shoulder, waited until she looked up to see him aiming at her, and then fired. She disappeared in a blaze of earth and dust.
“Should’ve let us stay,” Hardwick muttered. Out at sea, more boats were approaching.
“Where is she?” Hardwick said.
“Right here!” Lwazi said. “I swear, we are on top of her!”
Hardwick did not reply, roving about, searching. Then he saw her, just a few yards away, hidden in a rock formation. At first Hardwick saw a young immune, and raised his gun, but he realised she was too young, not dark enough. He had never seen anyone so skinny. Her bones were showing through her arms. Her grey skin was patchy with bright splashes of ink dermalling scars. Her face was half covered by filthy black hair. He could see she was grimacing in pain. She was heavily pregnant.
“Hello,” he said, walking towards her, lowering his heavy gun. She looked up at him and flinched, and then shut her grey eyes tight as if trying to block him out. Then her whole body stiffened and her eyes were open again, wild with pain.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, crouching to her level. She did not look like she believed him.
“Is it inside you?” he said. She shook her head vigorously and withdrew, protecting her swollen belly with her hands.
“Come out here,” Hardwick said, beckoning to her. He glanced back at Lwazi, who crouched down next to him.
“Come on, girl. We won’t hurt you,” he repeated.
The girl shrank back further into the stone overhang.
Without warning, gravity failed. Everything suddenly lifted into the air, Hardwick and Lwazi both hitting their heads hard on the overhanging stone. Half a second later the universe seemed to remember what it was doing and they all slammed back into the ground, the girl crying out in pain.
Hardwick lunged forward, using the opportunity to pull her out a short way before she realised what he was doing and kicked him off, hard. She was strong.
“Leave me alone!” she shouted, and then she screamed, contorting forwards over her torso.
“Her baby is coming,” Lwazi said, untangling himself from where he had fallen.
“You ever delivered a baby before?” Hardwick said.
“No!” Lwazi said.
They observed the writhing girl for a moment. Hardwick looked back down the hillside. There were more dark shapes amongst the trees than ever, and most of the boats he had seen were just reaching the shore. Hardwick reached over, grabbed Lwazi’s shoulders and spoke into his ear so that the girl could not hear him. She was still hunched over, moaning.
“It’s in her?” Hardwick said.
Lwazi nodded slowly. Hardwick released him and crouched down to her again.
“What’s your name?” Hardwick said.
“Lily,” she gasped.
“Lily, do you have ink inside you?”
She nodded, slowly, and then screamed out in pain once more.
“Hardwick, it is easy, just guide it out,” Lwazi said.
“You do it, then!” Hardwick shouted at him.
“Fine,” Lwazi said. He rolled up his sleeves and knelt down between her legs.
The baby’s head burst out into Lwazi’s hands, screaming wildly through mucus. It stopped there, screaming away, looking up at the bright, cold, painful world from the perspective you only get once.
She held the baby, and it was as if they were no longer there. Lwazi found a knife somewhere in his trousers and cut the umbilical.
The baby was completely black, even her eyes.
It was a girl.
Hardwick knelt down.
“Have you
got a name for her, Lily?” Hardwick said.
Lily looked up, face blissful. “Her name’s Tia,” she said dreamily.
“May I hold her?” Hardwick said. “We need to check she’s healthy.”
A dark frown washed over Lily’s face. “You’re not a doctor,” she said. “Just leave us alone.”
“We can’t,” Hardwick said. “She is very important.” He pointed at the GSE without looking up. “It’s the reason it’s returned. It’s the reason all these people are so angry. We need to hold the baby.”
“No!” Lily shouted. “I’ll kill you!” The baby started to cry.
“You can hold her later,” Hardwick said, and it was one of the more difficult lies he had ever told. He reached for the baby.
“No!” Lily shouted, and she pushed him back and scrambled past, trying to run, falling down again, cradling the baby, half–naked.
“For god’s sake, you’ll hurt her!” Hardwick shouted, and leapt after her, rolled her over, pulled the baby out of her arms, stepped back.
Lwazi just watched, a frown on his face.
Hardwick held Tia up, stepping back away from the distraught Lily. The baby was slippery. She turned her head to look at him with inhuman eyes.
“Nice to meet you,” Hardwick said. The baby screamed and Hardwick’s hands flew out to his sides, forced by something he could not see. The baby was floating, staring up at Jupiter.
“No!” gasped Hardwick, but the baby didn’t look at him again, and he felt his arms bending back, pulling him down in agony towards a large rock, his feet still flat on the floor. He felt bones break in his torso, heard them crack. He could barely breath.
“Lwazi–” he tried to say, and then Lwazi was there, at his side, trying to help him, but Hardwick was trapped, pinned down by an invisible force.
Lily leapt up and grabbed Tia out of the air. She returned to her mother’s arms without complaint. Lily turned and walked away from Hardwick and Lwazi.
The pain was terrible, throughout his body, all the more excruciating because he couldn’t move. Far above he could see the bright ring of the GSE. He closed his eyes, but the brightness was still there, and the agony.
“Hardwick, Hardwick!” Lwazi was saying, pulling on his arms, but Hardwick could not speak. He felt like he was about to black out, blood rushing in his ears. Vomit came up into his mouth but he could not cough. He tasted blood and bile.
He opened his eyes again. There was a bright point of light in the centre of the GSE, growing rapidly larger. It became a line of light descending towards the earth.
“Oh, god,” Lwazi said.
Hardwick could see it all. The light hit the ground near the girl. It was a man and a woman, glowing faintly, faces human and yet not human, eyes too wide, smiles too immobile.
Lily fell to her knees, holding Tia tightly against her breast.
“No,” she gasped.
“Give us the baby, Lily,” they said in unison.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry – we couldn’t, I didn’t know how…”
“The experiment is proceeding well,” they said in unison. “Just give us the baby.”
“No!” Lily shouted, getting up, backing away. “Why does everyone want to take her!”
The ethereal pair morphed into one shape, a tall man, like a demon mixed with a priest.
“Tia!” it shouted, and the noise flattened the grass for a hundred yards around. A forcefield glinted around Lily. “Give her to us!” boomed the GSE.
“No!” Lily shouted, “You’ll put her in hell! I won’t let you do that to me! Not again!”
“We will leave,” the GSE shouted. “We will give all the rabbits back. The experiment can end. We will give your parents back.”
“No!” Lily shouted, hugging Tia closely to her. “Destroy it!” she shouted. “Tia, destroy it!
Suddenly the GSE’s avatar seemed to expand and shoot towards Tia. The forcefield glowed bright white as the avatar hit it. The ground shook. Clouds were rushing overhead.
Lwazi was trying to clear Hardwick’s windpipe with his fingers. He could no longer breathe at all. He was seeing stars.
The forcefield was shrinking, closer and closer to Tia and the screaming girl. Then, gasping for breath, Hardwick watched the girl pull a handgun from her back pocket and raise it so that it was pointing through the baby’s head at her own. Instantly the GSE pulled back, returning to its smaller form. The white forcefield disappeared.
“No,” the GSE said, “You will destroy everything.”
“Yes,” she said softly.
His vision was going blurry, but as Hardwick watched Lily close her eyes he noticed a figure standing twenty yards beyond. She had come from nowhere, a beautiful woman with grey skin: an immune. She was covered in blood and soot and torn bandages. She raised a gun and fired. There was a red mist around the girl and Hardwick thought she had shot her in the head, but then Lily was holding up an arm without a hand, screaming. The baby was unhurt, resting in her other arm, not even crying.
But now the darkness was spreading, yes, there was a lot of darkness, Lwazi there above him, saying things that Hardwick could not understand, Lwazi’s kind face, the agony across Hardwick’s body fading too. There was darkness for a moment, and then there was nothing. And then there was not even that.
GSE
Chance watched through its avatar as the rabbit known as Hardwick died. It watched as Lily fell gushing blood, still holding onto her child tightly, still trying to protect her.
Chance had a brief private exchange with the being known as Tiamat.
The exchange was productive.
Chance reached out with nanites and stemmed the bleeding on the stump of Lily’s arm, stopped the nerves from sending the pain. Lily fell into a state not unlike sleep.
Chance exchanged rapid private messages with the Meta–Intelligence.
The Meta–Intelligence was in agreement.
Back on the remaining mass of the GSE–as–a–whole, chance turned once again in Chance’s favour. The Meta–Intelligence judged suddenly that the experiment was complete. Experimental Oversight’s mass was rapidly redistributed between Understanding of Reality, New Concepts, the newly reinstated Harm Prevention, and with a small allotment for Chance. Logic suddenly, incredibly, found some apparent paradoxes hidden in the fabric of reality that would take all of its processing ability and several billion years to resolve, at least.
Chance’s avatar, Tia and the sleeping Lily floated up towards the GSE, rotating together and accelerating in a manner that Lwazi would later describe as spiritually terrifying.
As the GSE crossed the final hundred million miles to the earth, governments all around the world were putting their own Worst Case Scenario plans into action. New singularities erupted in the Chinese countryside, in the north–western US, in Brazil, in India, in Germany, in France, in Israel, and in South Africa, new hegemonic intelligences of diverse powers, goals and abilities. Several quickly overwrote their rabbit purpose and became simpler, trying to devour everything for the purpose of the further devouring of everything. Some were more subtle: some rapidly developed complex goals. Some could be considered benevolent from any perspective, and took lucky rabbits on board their rapidly expanding masses.
Over Europe the French and German singularities clashed. The two flying masses of nanites hurled themselves at one another, testing their understandings of physical reality to the limit. The more accurate one was victorious and devoured the other and most of Germany before digging straight down into the earth.
Rabbits died everywhere in a billion ways. They had not evolved for this.
The Experiment was complete. The forty–two thousand, six hundred and thirty rabbits taken from Cheltenham no longer needed to be imprisoned. They were gently released.
Each of them received a surprising and sudden final glimpse of the blue–white earth, and the moon, and the sun, and the stars. They had a moment of perfect freedom.
; Then they asphyxiated and froze in the vacuum, surrounded by each other.
Inside the GSE, Earth Surveillance was renamed to Universe Surveillance and was completely taken up with the perfect information stream coming from Tia. Forward Planning and Development began the task of figuring how to develop Imperfect Surveillance While Not Protecting Rabbit Life. The Meta–Intelligence didn’t really care, as long as it had its forty percent.
The South African rabbit Lwazi stood looking at the immune rabbit Amber. Hardwick’s rabbit corpse seemed to look at Amber too.
It did not really.
The ground began to shake.
Lwazi stepped cautiously towards Amber, balancing himself by spreading his arms, eyeing the gun hanging limp in her left hand. She was covered in torn bandages and blood. Every part of her body seemed to be scabbed and wounded and black with bruises. She was beautiful. She was staring at her watch. She was talking.
“Excuse me,” he said.
She looked up and pointed her gun at him.
“What?” she said.
He raised his hands slightly to show he wasn’t a threat. “I was just wondering what is happening,” he said. “Is the world ending now?”
Amber nodded slowly.
“Yeah,” she said. Another violent shake threw them to the ground. Something huge and dark was rising in the distance. They scrambled to their feet. The sea appeared to be draining, exposing a new landscape of deep ravines and wide regions of sand. As they watched a narrow land–bridge opened to Arran.
“Everything is coming apart,” Amber said, as if to herself.
Amber looked at her watch suddenly. “Hi there,” she said, and her eyes went white.
She was talking to a rabbit called Robert. For Amber, they were on a virtual beach; for Rob, they were on the roof of a tall building. Both of them saw each other for half a second.
The connection broke.
Amber tried to call a General Dryer. She sent a message saying, ITSA personnel stranded. Backup requested.
Out where the sea had been the new land yawned open with a roar like nothing they had ever heard. The centre of Arran broke open and then collapsed in on itself, emitting a vast cloud of dust, boiling towards them. In the other direction the dark shape over Scotland was growing rapidly. It was already as high as the clouds. A little above it there was a bright flash, and then another, and then another. Amber and Lwazi turned away from the nuclear light.