by Matt Ward
“Course you can. I heard that speech in Kiag.” He patted my shoulder. “You’re a natural.”
“That was a spur of the moment thing, I didn’t think.”
“We’ll practice without recording,” he countered. “Sound good?”
No. “I’m ready, ready as I’ll ever be at least.”
He gave me a countdown and nodded.
“Hello, my name’s Raek Mekorian. I’ve been called a terrorist, a murderer; I’m here to set the record straight.” And I did, even demoing my blaster, which I thought was a good touch. “I’m a freak, I’m a hybrid… but I’m also hope, hope for our people, hope for equality... freedom and unity for all.”
I talked about Elly, the horrific attacks, and hammered home every injustice.
“They do it because they fear us. They fear the power of a unified animote army. They. Fear. Us!” I slammed my fist on the table. “They should. We outnumber ‘em and we are strong. We fight for our future, for equality, for our children and our children’s children. We fight for a better world. So, who is with me?”
“And, cut,” Lars said.
Wait, cut? “What? That was a test run...”
“Are you kidding?” He laughed. “That was brilliant. Of course I was recording. I don’t think we’ll need a take two,” he added.
“Oh… You should’ve told me.” At least it was over.
“And ruin that.” He shook his head, smiling. “We have enough to do as it is. If you’ll excuse me, I have some editing and special effects to work on. And you have a message to write.”
And I would, right after a quick lunch. When I got to the dining hall, Zedda and Henk were on the far side with empty plates.
After grabbing the one thing left, eggs, I headed over.
“Hey, guys,” I said. Turning to Henk, I added, “I’m sorry about Ashlo.” I sat, giving him what I hoped was an encouraging smile.
“Thanks, Raek, it’s okay.”
“Feeling better, Zedda?” I asked, unable to hold eye contact.
“I’m fine,” she replied, looking her usual self again. “I can’t believe you guys went after him without me.”
“A lot of good you would have done unconscious.” Henk glowered at his plate. “At least I should have been there.”
I sighed. “We all did the best we could. We got him! We lost friends and family along the way, but we got him. Speaking of, where are they holding him? I’m supposed to talk to the techs.”
“I’ll take you,” Henk volunteered. “Will give me something else to think about.”
“Thanks, let me finish this.” I shoveled the scrambled eggs before remembering Zedda. “Ohhh.” My face flushed a guilty smile. It wasn’t the coolest of looks.
She laughed, and two minutes later, we were off. “He’s in the underground cells,” Henk explained. “Used to be storage, but we retrofitted several of them. This way.”
He led me to an unmarked panel built into the slab wall and typed a code on the mini touchscreen display. A thick metal door swung open, revealing a small spiral staircase twisting downward.
We descended and heard country blues emanating from an open door. “That you, Raek? Come in.”
Thorn was sprawled on gurney in the center of the featureless holding cell, arms, legs, and chest bound to the bed with Teflon nanoties, sensors tattooing his body with marks. “We got your cynetic right here,” the woman standing over him said. “Been working on his SmartCore since he arrived.”
She was mid sixties I’d guess, with smart, focused eyes, a pointed nose, and a trace of blonde whiskers on her lip. Was there some weasel in her? I didn’t dare to ask. They didn’t have the best reputation.
“You got access?” I asked.
“Sort of. We got into his SC’s social matrix, ie. how his brain, and yours, store and categorize everyone you’ve ever met.” She must have noticed our blank stares and cut to the point, “The messaging will work. The rest will take weeks to decrypt. Never heard of this much security at the SC level.”
Whatever that means.
She analogized it to the cliché oldies, a hero disarming a bomb in a race against time. “Some SmartCores have similar protections, frying everything. Or external alerts...”
Still clueless, I said, “But it’ll work?”
“Yeah, sure. Use this.” She grabbed two screens by the wall and handed me one.
I rotated the input field to make it easier to use.
“Put your message here,” she said. “Let me know when you’re ready.”
“And this will send as if it was him? There’s no possible way the receiver could know?” A slip-up would ruin everything.
She nodded, and I entered Calter Fury in the recipient field
His name appeared alongside a stream of images, videos and usernames. Could my SmartCore do that? I’d look later.
After choosing the Minister, I got to the message. To the side was a past history tab. I scrolled their previous correspondences to get a feel for the relationship.
Okay, it all made sense now… Thorn overcompensated to make up for problems with his dad. There was an undercurrent of tension throughout, poor guy wanted to impress Calter. Needed recognition but never got it. The minister seemed cold and controlling, even downright cruel. I’d rather be a bastard... Focus.
I started typing.
Dear Father,
I have the best news. I know I should be in Kiag waiting for the half-breed, but I came across an opportunity too good to pass up, one you’ve sought for ages.
In Itany, I met one of the original scientists on the emulation project. He created and managed the first backups and surrogate brain-field transfers before the ban. He’s been on the run ever since and undergone several reconstructive surgeries to avoid detection.
Anyways, one of the idiots who couldn’t keep his mouth shut mentioned I was your son. I was furious, but later the scientist, Alexei, approached me about a deal. He wanted immunity, a new life, and high ranking position in exchange for emulating the two of us.
At first, I didn’t believe him. Seemed too good to be true. I threatened to kill him if he didn’t confess, but he said again, he was telling the truth. Said I could do what I liked because he was backed up. I believe him.
I stayed in the city and sent my men onward, telling them not to report me missing. Secrecy is critical. Now, Alexei and I are traveling to Caen under the guise of a father and son trading company.
I waited to send this until getting closer. We don’t want Intel getting a whiff of what’s happening. Reply as soon as you can.
Your son,
Thorn
I read the message twice more, and sent it, fingers crossed.
Closing the screens, I turned to Henk and… I blushed. “This is embarrassing. I never got your name.”
“I’m Ania.” She held out a petite hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure’s all mine. If you’ll excuse me, I need to see the Council. Can you ping me if we get a response?”
“Sure.” Her fingers danced through the air. “What’s your username?”
I gave it.
“Now you’ll get an alert if we get a response. Anything else?”
“No, that’s great,” I said. “Thanks, Ania. By the way, no one’s allowed in this cell until you hear from me or the Council.” I paused. How do I say this... “That includes you guys. Sorry.”
Both nodded without a word and Ania locked the door as we left. We went our separate ways.
On the spiral staircase, a notification. That was fast.
I opened it.
47
The Boy Who Cried Wolf
The livestream started, fires everywhere.
‘Leed Goralich reporting from Kiag, what’s left of it. You may remember Raek Mekorian, the wolfish terrorist who murdered four officers in the capital a while back and torched his hometown, Kiag. It appears he’s struck again.’
The image panned to an overhead of the Black Fo
rest, bluish green smoke billowing from the smoldering inferno. ‘Chemfires are raging, destroying more and more animote land, farms, and livestock in the process. We at the WNN and GDR feel for citizens affected and beg anyone with information to report it to the DNS. Leed Goralich signing off, stay safe.’
Clenching my fists, I felt lightheaded. They’d destroyed everything I’d ever loved, and now the forest—my one true home… Those bastards.
I raced to where I’d left Lars, ignoring the calls and waves as I passed, everything burning red. This couldn’t go on. I wouldn’t let it.
Bursting through the flimsy door, I snapped, “Lars! Is it ready?”
He turned, a curious expression on his face. “Oh, kid, you’re back?”
“Is it ready or not?” I showed him the clip.
“Almost.”
“Add this.” I improvised a response to the fire and footage. “Now, show it to me, the whole thing.”
“I need more—”
“Show it to me!”
He flipped a few screens, dragged several frames and let out a pleased sigh. “That should do it. Here.”
A holo of me appeared, dramatic music in the background.
When it was finished, I was impressed. “Good work. Now publish it! Everywhere.”
“We need to figure out—”
“I said publish it. Spread it like the fire that leveled my town. We have those bastards in a lie. We don’t have time to screw around.”
His hands flew. “Done. Should hit the major elite and animote webs, forums, message boards and social sites at once. All major alt news outlets. We’re on TOR4, other darknet channels, and there’s holo and video options for any tech stack.” His eyes twinkled.
“Thanks, Lars.”
A notification came. Another, and another… soon, a torrent. “It’s happening!” I exclaimed. That was fast.
A new message popped up.
What the—? It was from Ania. Oh, wow. That was even faster.
I grabbed Lars. “Come on!”
Three minutes later, we were at Thorn’s cell, and Ania unlocked it. “That was quick.”
“Open it here.” I created a screen outside her view.
Our conversation materialized. Holy crap. He answered!
Lars and I were silent as we read.
Thorn,
Interesting.
Good work.
Where and when?
- CF
“He has a way with words,” Lars said sardonically.
You got that right. You should see his other messages. “I’ll set up an emergency Council meeting. Ania, can you lock the room. We’ll be back in thirty minutes or less.”
Once we were out of earshot, I asked, “What do you think?”
“He’s a tough father, that’s what I think.”
“Dang it, Lars. You know what I mean.”
“We need to pick the right location and pray there’s no secret code between the two. Our best bet is somewhere deserted.”
Everyone was there when we arrived and updates went quick. “So, where do we do this?” I asked. “Any suggestions?”
After some debate, we settled on an abandoned factory north of the city. We were banking on the fact he’d come alone, not wanting to reveal the possibility of emulation to any but his closest circle, in other words, himself.
And tonight, not too late. We couldn’t give him time to think things over. We’d have a small force of six, and I’d talk to him myself. The others ran off while Lars and I hurried back.
Dear Father,
It’s good to hear from you.
The sooner, the better. Let’s meet at the old Apple warehouse, north of the city. You know the one—abandoned since the company went under.
Eight p.m.? It’s late enough to avoid attention but not too late to attract suspicion.
Wear a blue shirt with black pants if everything’s fine, otherwise, we’ll assume you’ve been followed.
Walk in the door on the East side. We’ll be waiting.
Your son,
Thorn
We both read it once more, and I hit send.
Seconds later, a reply.
Sounds good.
- CF
We looked at each other. There was no turning back.
48
Viral
We got there early for recon, assuming Calter would do the same.
Paer came, as did Henk, Zedda, Lars, and Obowe, who would play the scientist, until we revealed the true plan. Zedda would cover us from above while Paer and Henk guarded the East entrance. Lars would circle the remaining doorways.
It was 17:00. Three hours to kill.
After an eternity, an electric whirr. Wheels skidded to a halt and piano music faded. This was it.
He was an hour early. Gravel crunched as footsteps crept toward the doorway. He stopped.
What if he messaged Thorn again? How did I not think of that?
After a minute, the footsteps continued. Phew. A door creaked open and thudded shut.
“Thorn,” he said in a soft, firm voice. “Where are you?”
Calter stepped from the recessed doorway onto the immense fulfillment center floor, boots clacking, athletic frame tense. Dark malevolent eyes took it all in as if readying himself for war, looking every bit the dangerous predator he was. “Thorn, if this is a game!”
“Don’t shoot, Calter.” I moved from behind a small wall, hands in the air. “My name’s Raek Mekorian. You’ve been chasing me for weeks. I want to talk.”
His hand shot up, aiming at me.
“Don’t,” I said. “We have you surrounded.” Zedda, Henk and Paer appeared.
“We don’t want a fight, this isn’t a kidnapping.” I added. “We’re here to talk.”
“Where’s the scientist? Where’s my son?” His voice rose, eyes narrowing. He hadn’t lowered his blaster.
“Thorn’s safe. We’ve got him sedated in a secure location.”
“Where is he?” Fury snapped.
I had to be careful, his blaster was pointed right at me. One false move... “I know you hate emulates, you’ve always envied them. We all do. Their immortality and disproportionate power, talk about a corrupt system. We want the same thing, you and I. You want power and I want to end the emulates reign, to make us equal.”
“What are you saying?” His eyes were wary but interested.
“We’re going to destroy the brain-fields. All of ‘em.” I let that sink in, smiling. “We’re going to turn emulates into ordinary people. Level the playing field.”
“So, there’s no scientist, no one to perform the emulation?” His jaw twitched.
I shook my head.
“It’s impossible!” he growled. “Don’t think I haven’t tried. Their facilities are hidden.”
Lars stepped forward. “We found a way.”
“Who is this?” Calter spat, blaster still pointed at my head.
“Part of our organization,” I cut in. “We need your military deployment data, information on all locations with less than ten or twenty guards.”
A mirthless laugh. “I’m not giving you that.”
“Only the ones with all animote guards,” I said. “Emulates wouldn’t want cynetics or enhancers at the facility, might figure out what they were guarding.”
His brow furrowed. “I’m listening.”
I explained the compromise between secrecy and protection. “It’ll be well hidden as opposed to well guarded.”
“So you can figure out where they are,” he finished.
I nodded. “We don’t care what happens afterward, or who takes power. We figure it will be you in all honesty.” I paused, knowing that was his ultimate goal. “The emulates will be in disarray, and they’ll be mortal again. They’ll piss away their power.”
His eyes were gleaming now.
“If you’re willing to guarantee basic rights for animotes, we’re willing to help. Are you in?”
He sneered arrogance. “What do I
need you lot for? You gave me what I needed.”
“Deniability! You’ll have someone to blame and no repercussions. Think about it.”
“I want my son back! How do I know I can trust you?”
“How do we know we can trust you, Calter?” I said. “We can’t, and neither can you. But we both want the same thing. We have a common enemy. It’s up to you.”
He turned to leave.
“Well?” Lars yelled after him.
“You’ll have your intel, tomorrow. I want my son!” he added. “I’ll send you details.” With that, he swept into the cold night, humming one of Bach’s more insidious pieces, a freezing gust of wind chilling our bones in the eerie silence as the door clattered shut.
No one spoke. We were a third of the way back when Zedda broke the silence. “That was easier than we expected.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Lars said.
“Did you see the way he looked at me?” I asked. “Disdain. Mutual admiration too, though. He knew we’d bested him and his son, and respected that, almost as much as he hated us. For him, this is personal. Something must have happened with the emulates.”
The question was, what?
“If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” Henk said. “And if you can’t join ‘em, crush ‘em. It’s human nature.”
Which was also what screwed us in the first place.
“Either way, we need teams on high alert,” Paer said. “The attacks have to be simultaneous. If they have advance warning, they’ll move the backups,” she said with an uncharacteristic worry.
“Or worse yet,” I said, “create more. Can you coordinate?” I asked her.
“Guys, we might have a problem,” Henk said. A moment later, “Oh shit!”
“INCOMING, INCOMING,” the VTOL blared. “BRACE FOR IMPACT.”
49
Falling Glass
“Henk, what’s going!” Zedda yelled.
“Shut up, shut up!” The VTOL pitched forward, dropping. “Behind us!” Henk yelled.
A missile streaked toward us. Another flash two hundred meters back, another.