by Matt Ward
‘Yes, son, I am. World’s worst afterlife, isn’t it? I was expecting tropical beaches, beautiful ladies, fine wines… Oh well, what are you going to do?’ He smiled.
‘You’re dead too?’
‘Don’t worry about that, worry about you. You managed to screw things pretty good. I’m gone for what, two months, and you and Lars start all kinds of trouble.’
‘We thought we’d win,’ I mumbled, ashamed. ‘We thought we were ready.’
‘This is winning?’ he asked, sarcastic even in death.
‘So we lost?’ After all that...
‘Does it matter?’ he said. ‘Look around. This isn’t winning or losing, this is ending. There’s an old song I like. You might not know it. “Nobody wins when everyone’s losing. It’s like one step forward and two steps back...” Forget it, I can’t sing. You get the point.’
I nodded, or at least meant to. ‘It’s too late now.’
‘It’s never too late. We’re having this conversation, aren’t we?’ he quipped. ‘Think about it, son. I need to go, my time is running short.’
But wasn’t this infinite? ‘Wait!’ I protested. ‘Wait, I need to ask you—”
He disappeared as a sharp pain seared my chest.
This was it.
58
Trips And Ships
I came to in a big white room, bright lights piercing my eyes. Ugh. I coughed as pain shot through my chest.
Where was I? What happened?
My hands! There they were, attached to my arms. I had fingers too, but couldn’t move them, my arms either. Everything was numb. Was this hell? Torture after purgatory?
A noise caught my attention. A floating screen above me, numbers flashing, and what looked like a heartbeat. Another loud beep. Was this a hospital? Where were Dr. P and Dr. R?
Zedda burst in. She hadn’t died too, had she? Please no. I passed out.
Bits and pieces of what they were saying flooded in.
“Are you sure his brain,”
“...a high explosive.”
“lucky to be alive…”
“Should we wake him?”
My head spun, vision blurring as my eyes opened. “Howw lonngg haavve I beeeenn outtt?” I slurred. “WWWWhat happpeeened?”
“Raek, are you okay?” Zedda sprang from the chair and ran to me. “Thank goodness. Can you hear me?”
Zedda... what was I supposed to remember? “I’mmm ffinee. Ddddooesss myyy voiccce sssounnddd funnnnnnyyyy tttttoo youuu?”
A door opened, and Lars swooped in, followed by a nurse in a white gown and goggles.
“You made it, kid.” Lars smiled. “We were worried there.”
“Where am I? What happened? Did we win? Wait...” Something on the edge of my awareness, something big. What? “Am I alive? Where’s Fitz?”
“What?” They looked at each other, bewildered.
“You are very much alive,” the nurse cut in. “My name’s Nurse Jannie, and you’re back at headquarters. I can’t believe you’re awake. A micronade from two meters… you’re lucky to be alive.” She shook her head. “Never seen anything like it.”
“I died!” I gasped. “I was dead. My body was gone. I talked to Fitz. There were bodies everywhere.” My voice rose as I recounted what happened, including finding Zedda’s body.
“It’s okay, Raek,” Zedda squeezed my hand as she wiped a tear. “Everything’s fine, you’re here.” I was so glad she was too.
“Could be the sedative,” Jannie remarked. “I put you on an IV the moment you got back. You were quite banged up. Didn’t think you’d survive, to be honest.”
“But if I didn’t die, if none of that was real, what happened?”
“Well, things were going bad and got worse,” Lars said. “I got you out of there and hid your body in a dumpster, but the DNS realized you were gone. We were sitting ducks without air support.” He paused. “Around 10:00 a.m., the last facility fell. We’d done it, but we were down to a few thousand. There were four or five times as many soldiers,” he added.
A few thousand... the streets must be littered with bodies. I’d sent all of them to their deaths...
“The video played on the Everything Store sign,” Zedda said. “The fighting stopped after thirty seconds. When you said the backups had been destroyed, a hush went through the crowd. Everyone froze. The world stopped. You were closer, Lars, you tell him.”
“Soldiers threw down their weapons and bolted. What started as one or two turned into a torrent. Soon, hundreds were dropping their guns, running for their lives. Several officers opened fire on the deserters but it didn’t stem the flow. We were dumbstruck. Clashes broke out amongst the GDR as cynetics, emulates, and enhancers shot anyone not in their regiment. A holy war ignited.”
“Paer ordered us to stand down,” Zedda said. “We retreated amidst the madness.”
An exhale. Had I been holding my breath? I was terrified of ruining the moment. “Then what?”
“That’s it,” Lars answered. “It’s 13:00 now.”
Was that possible? “I need to get out of here!”
“Out of the question, young man!” the nurse barked. “I have to monitor you overnight. Too many possible complications. Your heart rate hasn’t stabilized, hormone levels are out of whack, and you’ve sustained damage in—”
I sat up. “Sorry, Ms. Jannie, wasn’t it? I’m leaving, whether you like it or not! I need to see the Council. Give me a booster or something to help me recover faster. I’ll sign a waiver, or we can pretend I escaped. There’s too much at stake.”
She shook her head. “I know hardheadedness when I see it. Don’t make me regret this.” She unhooked the sensors. “No strenuous activity, meetings are fine. You two!” she snapped at Lars and Zedda. “Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. He has to stay off his feet a couple days.”
She set up remote monitoring to track my vitals and checked biometrics before grabbing a translucent vial. “In fifteen minutes, once this IV’s done, you’re good to go. Okay?”
“Sounds great,” Lars said before I could object. When she left, Lars added, “I couldn’t say everything while she was here. Here’s the latest.” He shared a series of files, the casualty numbers staggering.
My IV beeped. Finally!
Pulling the needle from my arm, I stood, and my legs crumbled, head woozy. Lars and Zedda grabbed me by the shoulders and helped me to a wheelchair. It was old school, not even electric, but it would get the job done. I started to push, but Zedda took over, gliding me across the polished floor.
“Thanks,” I whispered once Lars was out of earshot.
She grinned. “No worries. Thanks for saving our necks back there.”
Again, I was lost for words. What could I say?
Five minutes later, the War Room. The air shook with pent up energy, crumpled cups, and half-empty coffee mugs scattered about.
“Any updates?” I asked.
“The web’s exploding with news and controversy,” Ganla said. “The GDR instituted martial law in several cities and we’ve captured five others. It’s unbelievable, more than we ever expected. Racial gang warfare at its worst.”
“Members of the government have fled,” Lars added. “Nothing’s been heard from the Board—with the exception of our friend Calter—since 11:00 a.m. this morning. Reports say Gileu and Zu retreated to private palaces in the mountains, and many more are thinking about it.”
A knock on the door. It slammed open without waiting for a response. A boy hurried in, hands on his knees. “Check the WNN! Ania sent me, said you had to see this.”
In seconds, the simulcast was up. A dim, cramped room, a well-dressed man slumped in a chair. What the—?
‘What you’re seeing is live!’ a voice cut in. ‘This is Richad Daks, and the following feed is our beloved Minister of Intelligence, Gregori Schwarz. Wait, his captor’s coming back.’
A black door at the back of the room opened, a tall masked intruder entering with a wave to the cam
era. ‘If you are just tuning in,’ Daks continued, ‘Minister Schwarz has been abducted by a yet unidentified group, and is being held against his will.’
The creep turned to the camera, smiling. ‘Wondering why Gregori Schwarz is sitting here, hogtied like the criminal he is? Ask Minister Schwarz, this is nothing new for him, except being in the chair, that is. Our “great minister” has overseen the torture and execution of countless dissidents and political prisoners over the years. You don’t become an emulate-class Board member without ruffling a few feathers, do you Gregori?’ He smacked the bound man hard across the cheek.
Schwarz’s black eyes glinted as he spat. ‘Take your hands off me. You’ll regret this. I’ll make you beg for death.’ His powerful body shook but the chair was bolted to the floor.
‘I’m sure you would,’ the mysterious figure replied. ‘But here you are. And your brain-field’s gone. No reboot this time.’ He laughed, grabbing a knife from the counter. Schwarz squirmed.
‘How’s it feel to be mortal, to be vulnerable?’ his captor taunted. ‘You’ve personally killed at least two dozen animotes and enhancers, even a handful of cynetics. And that’s not counting the thousands of executions you’ve ordered. Gregori Schwarz, how do you plead to the charges put forth by the people’s court?’ the masked man hissed, mouth inches from the Schwarz’ ear.
‘What? Charges...? You’re insane! Untie me, you—’
‘Wrong answer,’ the vigilante cackled. ‘The people’s court hereby finds you guilty of murder, torture, and harm to the nth degree, and sentences you to die for your sins. Any last words?’ He twirled the cleaver between his fingers.
‘Holy hell!’ Richad Daks swore. ‘I think he’s going to...’
Schwarz went white, quivering. ‘You can’t do this, you can’t. I’m a Minister of the Board, a representative of the GDR! Tears fell as the blade swung, piercing his neck and thudding into the wall.
This wasn’t happening...
‘Justice. Is. Served!’ The vigilante’s gavel fist hammered the table. ‘Let them pay for their crimes.’
The video ended.
59
Power
There were a slew of simulcast murders after that. Despite curfews, battles raged into the night, roaming gangs seeking outlets for decades of hatred and resentment.
Tension—brewing on all sides—continued to boil over.
By the end of day two, the death toll surpassed eight million, another twenty-to-fifty million suffering mild to severe injuries. And that didn’t include Neurowebbers.
Most cities lost power for a while, and many VR inhabitants died instantly, feeble medkit-sustained bodies not designed for extended power loss. A hundred fifty million more lives extinguished overnight.
It was sickening. What had we done? What had I done? How’d I let this happen?
I couldn’t sleep that night, the next either. Widespread violence haunted my dreams. Reports of cities burning, full-scale bombings, at least a dozen high profile assassinations. This had to stop or we’d tear ourselves apart and enter a new dark age; that’s what history suggested.
The one bright spot—if you could call it a bright spot—was we were winning, at least by the numbers. The majority of casualties were enhancers and cynetics. There’d been a lot of emulates killed the first day too, but their numbers were small and their importance so diminished, mobs lost interest. This was about power now, revenge and power.
Simulations showed we’d control the government in three-to-five days with a lion’s share majority: sixty-four percent. It would continue to rise. So why did I feel empty inside? We’d been fighting for this—dreamed of this—for decades… freedom, liberation. Why’d it feel so wrong?
And why couldn’t I sleep?
I should meditate. I needed clarity, needed direction. Clearing my head might help.
Sitting against the wall, I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing. My thoughts swarmed, a tsunami of doubts and fears and whatifs threatening to capsize me. I resisted. It died down, became a stream, a trickle, and dried to nothingness. Images of pain and violence appeared. Eventually, they stopped bothering me.
Once my mind was clear, I opened my eyes to a renewed sense of calm and purpose. I knew what to do. The question was, could I pull it off?
It was 2:21 in the morning. No one was up, but this couldn’t wait, so, I rehearsed what I had to say. Once I felt ready as ever, I turned to the camera. Was I making a big mistake? Was I about to do this?
“Hello everyone, my name’s Raek Mekorian. The last few days I’ve been called everything from a hero to a villain, terrorist, messiah... Whatever your thoughts, I’m here to apologize for the war and suffering that’s befallen our civilization. And I say civilization, because we’re all one people—one humanity—united in our collective history.
“Our world’s collapsing before our eyes. Wholesale destruction on an unprecedented scale… and at our own hands. I propose a truce, a meeting of the minds of all subspecies—animote and cynetic, enhancer and emulate—to decide our future. We can’t go on like this,” I continued, citing stats and forecasts of how bad things could get.
This had to work. It had to.
“Clearer heads must prevail. How many more brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, friends and loved ones, must we sacrifice to this mindless struggle? We’re all human, we’re all equal. We are one!”
It felt right. I hit publish.
60
A Big Table
BANG. BANG. BANG. “Kid, are you there? Raek? Get up!”
I sat up from the mat on my floor as Lars shouted, “Open up! What were you thinking?”
I staggered to the hammering door. “What?”
“The video... Did you do that last night? The Council’s freaking out.” His eyes narrowed, an angry expression creasing his face. “What were you thinking?”
“I did what needed to be done.”
He shook his head and sighed. “Let’s go, kid. They’re waiting downstairs. I brought coffee.” He handed me a mug.
Three minutes later, we were outside the War Room. Lars grabbed my shoulder. “I can’t protect you in there, what you did... You crossed the line.”
I nodded, not saying anything, and pushed open the door.
The War Room froze as we entered.
“Raek,” Paer said at once. “Do you know what your video has done?”
“Probably what I intended. Stopped the fighting and made people question what they’re fighting for?”
“We had the GDR right where we wanted them!” Ganla snapped. “You’ve seen the numbers, we were growing stronger every day.”
“We weren’t growing stronger, we were getting weaker,” I said. “Proportionally stronger, sure, but millions were dying for no reason!”
Ganla’s fiery eyes flashed. “If we want to defeat the enemy, we have to crush them. We can’t afford to show weak—”
“That’s your problem!” I cut in. “There is no enemy. We are all people here.”
“Raek,” Mico replied, “you know what Ganla means. For animotes to gain power and take our rightful seat at the head of the table—”
Damn it. “You don’t get it, do you? That mentality is what created this mess in the first place. It won’t fix it! This isn’t about propping up animotes, it’s about equality. It’s about lasting peace.” Hadn’t they heard of Mandela? What would Fitz say?
Ganla’s face contorted. “How can you speak of peace and equality after all that’s happened?”
“Revenge and retribution always leads to more bloodshed.” I shook my head. “Look at World War II, we all had that in history class!”
“Raek,” Paer said. “This isn’t about revenge, not yet. It’s about military strategy. The fact is, you compromised the advantage we had. A truce gives the other side time to regroup, and maybe unify. If that happens, we’re back where we started.”
Oh… “I didn’t think about that. But we need to end the bloodshed for all our
sakes.”
“You’re just a boy!” Ganla said. “What do you know about—”
Just a boy? I slammed my fist on the table. “How dare you? Who planned to target brain-fields and figured out the locations? Who captured Thorn and tricked Calter? Who nearly died yesterday? Just a boy...” I scoffed. “How dare you?”
“Raek’s right,” Lars said. “He has at least as much right as any to a seat at this table. We owe him. Let’s not forget who made the videos and is our rallying cry,” he added.
Thank you, Lars. I knew I could count on you.
“What do you propose?” Paer eye’s bore into me, silencing Ganla with an icy stare.
“Negotiations,” I replied. “We send delegates from all subspecies to hash out a new governance system, propose non-binding decrees and open ‘em to public vote. If two-thirds approve, it becomes law.”
“And if we don’t like the results?” Paer countered.
“We accept the consequences, like everyone else. We have to negotiate in good faith if we want others to.” Talk turned to what an ideal system would look like, and we agreed, a direct democracy with a higher governing body.
Lars was skeptical. “You think emulates and cynetics would agree; going from elite to average overnight?”
We knew the other side’s weaknesses, didn’t we? “Think about it,” I said. “If you’d beaten down animotes your entire life, what would you fear most?” I paused. “Trading places... They’ll be happy we aren’t out for blood. And we’ll bring that up.” No one said we have to play totally fair. “As long as they feel they’re getting an honest deal.”
In the end, a vote: five-to-two in favor. It felt like a win, but at the same time, meant we’d be having more meetings. Lovely...
It took two days for other groups to agree to a ceasefire. The delay cost another million lives, and the cynetics, of course, were last to cave, recognizing their position of power. Even they couldn’t fight the public outcry forever.