Post-Human 05 - Inhuman

by David Simpson

  Fortunately, his early-warning system had allowed him to anticipate the exact moment the wormhole was about to open and to warp the gravitational field around the ship, creating a nearly impenetrable vice of space-time, catching the ship as though in a gigantic, invisible baseball glove. Unfortunately, he also knew he had to crush the ship and the device before it could detonate, and he closed the vice until all that was left was a tiny marble that appeared perfectly black. It floated gently into James’s gleaming hand as he further manipulated the gravitational field around it, drawing it toward him. James examined it when it reached him, almost expressionlessly, but the A.I. could see the pain in the post-human’s eyes.

  “You had no choice,” the A.I. pointed out, his tone consoling. “If the anti-matter missile had detonated, not even your warp bubble could’ve contained it. You just saved every life in the solar system.”

  “I know,” James replied, “but I just killed five people.”

  “You had no choice,” the A.I. repeated softly. “And their patterns were no doubt recorded and uploaded to the collective before they set forth on this suicide run.”

  “The fact that there are copies of these people being rebuilt by the android collective makes the deaths of these individual entities no less tragic,” James replied. “They’re still dead...by my hand.”

  “My son, since we’ve yet to determine the mechanism they use to upload their patterns to the collective, we can’t be sure that these bodies they’re sending on suicide missions are not the copies, so to speak. You may have just terminated drones and nothing more.”

  “You’re grasping at straws.”

  “Regardless, even if these androids have died, their deaths are on another’s hands, and we both know who that almost certainly is.”

  James closed his eyes for a moment before he turned and walked back toward the mainframe, most of his attention returning to his pattern, next to the A.I. in the operator’s position. There, his appearance mirrored his biological human form, the form he still preferred to present himself in when in cyberspace. “Yes, we do. 1 clearly survived my destruction of her body, yet I haven’t been able to detect her pattern in the android armada.”

  “Neither have I,” the A.I. replied. “However, we both know that it’s possible to hide a pattern if it’s divided and kept in small enough portions.”

  “That would explain how she avoided my detection,” James returned, “but it doesn’t explain how she’s still calling the shots. If her pattern is in pieces, then she’d be dormant. This was clearly a plan initiated by her, but we should’ve been able to detect her if she’s currently conscious and operating.”

  “As I warned you before your last confrontation with her, she’s not to be underestimated. She’s a far more worthy foe than we previously realized.”

  James nodded. “She is.”

  “Still, attempting to destroy the mainframe and the Earth along with it, had no chance of success,” the A.I. began, his tone ponderous. “She would’ve known that we’d detect it and thwart it.”

  “That’s not entirely true,” James countered. “She may have counted on me tagging along with our diplomatic mission. She may have gambled that my body is the only means we have of detecting space-time distortions, and with me too far away to protect Earth—”

  “I think it is now you, who is grasping at straws. It’s highly unlikely that she wouldn’t have assumed that I also have the ability to detect space-time distortions. James, the fact that we’re both trying so hard to make sense out of these behaviors is extremely disconcerting. Her motivations for trying so desperately to destroy this solar system elude me.”

  James nodded in agreement. “It doesn’t seem to make sense. With all of our vast ability to calculate probability, still, 1’s bizarre strategy has us on the defensive. As I said, we’re missing crucial information. We have to be on guard until that information is uncovered.”

  “This makes Richard’s and Djanet’s diplomatic mission all the more important. It may provide us with the clues we need to start piecing together this puzzle.”

  “Yeah,” James replied. “Speaking of, they’re almost there. Time to refocus our attention. Keep your eyes peeled and your ear to the ground.”

  The A.I. nodded. “Indeed.”

  3

  “Rich, how’s it looking over there, pal?” James asked via his mind’s eye connection to his longtime friend and fellow terraformer.

  Rich Borges sat at the front of the ship he and Djanet were piloting toward an android armada of ships that was so gigantic, its collective mass generated gravity that drew them in like a tractor beam. The ship they were closing in on at that moment completely filled their front view screen, and Rich’s repulsed expression mirrored the revulsion he felt in his gut as he observed the monstrosity in front of them. The ships reminded Rich of pictures he’d seen of cancerous tumors in the days before nans, when humans were subject to the whims of chance and their random personal genetic codes. Like a cancer, the ships didn’t appear designed; there was no holistic vision. Rather, they were simply masses in space, malignant structures that spread out in every direction—long, ragged, jutting structures sometimes extending like metallic rivers for dozens of kilometers in a myriad of directions. There was no symmetry or beauty; just a dreadful arbitrariness that increased the feeling of despair that neither Rich nor Djanet could shake off.

  “It looks like…Hell,” Rich replied.

  “I understand. It’s not pretty,” James answered. “I appreciate you guys volunteering for this.”

  “Yeah,” Rich replied, “and that’s a decision I almost immediately regretted. The last time I saw these guys, even though it technically never happened, they turned me into a robot, so you know, this is…awkward.”

  “The memory is real,” James answered, “so your concerns are understandable. That’s why I designed the craft you’re in to be a fortress. If they’ve scanned you, they know you can do severe damage to them if they behave hostilely. That should act as a deterrent.”

  “Unless they squash us before we can use the weapons,” Rich countered.

  “I’ve got control of the ship’s weapons. If they try to harm you, they won’t be around long enough to regret it.”

  Rich considered the image of the ship’s weapons blasting a gaping hole into the side of the android ship in his mind and decided it was comforting enough to persuade him to continue with the mission. “Thank you, Commander.”

  “We’re docking now, James,” Djanet informed him as the ship entered through one of the openings in the android ship’s demented architecture. “We’ll check in when we’ve reached the landing platform.”

  “Copy,” James replied.

  Djanet turned to Rich and let loose a long sigh. “It feels weird, huh?”

  Rich nodded. “Really weird.”

  “You know, we don’t have to be a part of this. There’s enough going on in our personal lives—especially yours—to keep us busy enough.”

  “I know, but that’s the kind of ‘busy’ I’d like to avoid,” Rich replied.

  Djanet’s shoulders slumped, an overwhelming guilt weighing them down. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to put you through—”

  Rich forced a smile and looked up at her. “Nobody twisted my arm to do anything. I made a major life decision, and there’s no going back. I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future, but I’ve got no choice. I can’t turn back time. James can, I can’t. And I wouldn’t want to if I could anyway.”

  Djanet’s expression brightened. “You’re sure?”

  Rich sighed. “I’m sure I’d rather be surrounded by a trillion androids that are plotting to kill me than be at home with Linda, who is probably also plotting to kill me.”

  Djanet frowned. “It’s that bad, huh?”

  Rich shrugged. “What’d I expect? It’s only natural.”

  Djanet looked out the front view screen at the awe-inspiring, yet repugnant image unfolding before her
. The ship was being guided by its navigation system to the coordinates that had been agreed upon with the androids, a destination that it was becoming clear was too deep within the bowels of the structure for comfort. Androids were flying through the open space, groups of them stopping to hover and stare as the post-humans’s ship flew past. In the distance, other androids stood on an endless series of walkways built to connect various structures in the interior. In totality, they appeared like webs of neurons connecting the innards of a madman’s mind, and Rich and Djanet were being sucked farther and farther inside the madness. “I don’t like the look of this.”

  “Me neither.” Rich turned to her as he licked his lips nervously. “Maybe you’re right.”

  Djanet turned to him with a quizzical expression.

  “After this,” Rich continued, “we’re out. Someone else oughta handle this stuff from now on.”

  4

  “We’ve touched down, Commander,” Djanet relayed to James as the spacecraft James had engineered for the mission landed.

  “Good work,” James replied. “The A.I. and I are both monitoring through your mind’s eye feeds. I know it’s probably pretty scary for you two, but, trust me, you’re not alone.”

  “That’s reassuring, Commander,” Djanet replied, “because I don’t know if I’ve ever felt so small.”

  “It looks like they’ve provided an atmosphere,” Rich said as he checked the readouts on the screen in front of him. Suddenly, movement in the corner of his eyes caused his head to snap up; it was a welcoming party of nearly a dozen androids, floating down to a soft landing on the dull, metallic platform in front of the post-human ship. Rich’s eyes immediately zeroed in on a face he recognized.

  “Of all the…Jesus. Why did they have to send him?”

  “Neirbo,” Djanet whispered.

  The stone-faced android stood at the center of the android contingent, his mouth in the same, thin-lipped, expressionless line that was emblazoned in both Rich’s and Djanet’s traumatic memories. He looked up at the front window of the ship and waited for Rich and Djanet to emerge.

  “It’s possible that he’s the interim leader in the absence of 1,” the A.I. suggested.

  “Either that, or they’re just trying to piss us off right off the hop,” Rich countered.

  “They don’t know that you and Neirbo have ever met,” James reminded Rich. “Neirbo has no memory of you. Try your best to keep your cool.”

  Rich sucked his lips back into a tight ball against his teeth as he tried to bottle down his fury. “Trying. No promises.”

  The bridge of the craft suddenly lowered, becoming its own platform, setting Rich and Djanet down on the surface of the android landing platform. Rich and Djanet stood up from their chairs and walked the two dozen paces, to the waiting androids.

  Neirbo’s lips suddenly twitched slightly, a look of disappointment flashing on his face before being replaced by his usual annoyed, stony countenance. His eyes moved from Rich and Djanet and up to the ship, which Rich noted most of the androids were exploring with their eyes with a certain fascination—Rich thought it mirrored lust.

  “That’s an impressive ship,” one of the androids commented.

  Rich looked over his shoulder at the exterior of the ship, a craft that, unlike its surroundings, appeared designed with meticulous care. It was a beacon of the beauty of human design and technological achievement. It shared the same chrome sheen that James’s enhanced body’s skin did, and the back end seemed to rest on its haunches, as though it were a metallic animal—a predator ready to pounce, its nose close to the ground. It seemed as though it were an extension of James, as though it were a part of him, watching over his friends while the man himself watched over them through Rich’s and Djanet’s mind’s eyes.

  Rich shrugged, a faint expression of pride on his face. “I got a guy.” Then he turned to Neirbo. “You look annoyed, as usual,” he observed.

  “As usual?” Neirbo reacted, his lips pulling back to reveal aggressively clenched teeth. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’ve never met you.” His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the post-human.

  “Nothing,” Rich shrugged and smiled. “Just, you know, don’t look so glum.”

  Neirbo sneered. “I was hoping someone else in particular might have chosen to be part of your small contingent,” he said, icily.

  “He’s talking about Old-timer,” James informed Rich through the mind’s eye. “He enacted a little retribution on Neirbo.”

  “Oh,” Rich said in a low tone before commenting, “Good for Old-timer. I’m envious.”

  Neirbo’s eyebrows knitted together as he scrutinized Rich’s unusual eye movements. “Is that your A.I. god speaking in your ear,” he asked, “or the superman abomination?”

  Rich’s eyebrows arched. “No, no worries.” He tapped his temple, feigning that he was watching something. “The 49ers are playing. Fourth quarter, you know, and I never miss a game, but you’ve got like, 81 percent of my full attention, I promise.”

  Neirbo’s expression remained unimpressed as he kept his eyes locked on Rich. “Your attempts at humor are woeful and you’re a distasteful little man,” he said.

  Rich smiled. “And you can go—”

  “Rich!” Djanet finally stepped in, putting her hand around his arm and taking over the responsibility of communicating with the androids. “We want to know why you’re still here. Commander Keats requested that you leave the solar system. Only individuals who plan on making a new life with us here are welcome to stay, and so far, that’s been a precious few. The rest of the android collective isn’t invited to.”

  Neirbo’s eyes remained locked on Rich as Djanet spoke, but he finally glanced at Djanet when his lips moved to form his reply. “How do you know we’re not all planning to stay?”

  “He’s being evasive,” the A.I. observed. “There’s zero chance they want to make peace. They just tried to destroy the mainframe.”

  “Not to mention the Earth,” James added. “But I see no trace of 1’s pattern,” James informed. “This is pure Neirbo. Rich, do me a favor and turn your head. I want to scan all of the androids.”

  Rich subtly did as he was asked as Djanet retorted to Neirbo.

  “It’s highly unlikely that you’re planning to stay peacefully,” she said. “Why haven’t you left?”

  Neirbo’s lips twitched again slightly. “We’ve never been without a leader for the collective before. We’re reevaluating our process for transferring leadership so that it can’t be…corrupted again. The reevaluation takes time. We’ve obeyed the request to move out of the solar system, but we’ll need a leader before the collective decides what to do next.”

  “There’s a 99.9 percent chance he’s lying,” the A.I. calculated.

  “But 1’s not here,” James said, a slight frustration in his voice. “I’m detecting nothing in their android communication link either. She isn’t even monitoring.”

  “Djanet,” the A.I. began, “relay to the androids that they have twenty-four Earth hours, starting now, to begin moving away from our solar system.”

  Djanet inhaled deeply before she spoke, cognizant that her next words might be construed as a threat. “I’m authorized to inform you that you have twenty-four hours to begin leaving the solar system.”

  “Or else what?” Neirbo replied, disdain dripping from his voice.

  “Or else our superman abomination is going to make you leave,” Rich said emphatically.

  “A threat?” Neirbo reacted. “You follow your superhuman abomination so blindly. You think he has your best interest at heart, but what are you to him? He’s a god now. You’re a pet to him at most. We, on the other hand, are your true friends.”

  Rich’s eyes flashed wide with surprise before he smiled. “Neirbo, your attempts at humor are woeful.” He winked. “Twenty-four hours, little man.”

  And with that, the post-humans turned to retreat back to their ship and head home as quickly as possible.

  �
��Do you have to taunt them?” Djanet whispered. “We still have to get out of here.”

  Rich smiled as he shrugged. “You know, I gotta tell you, I feel good about it.”

  *****

  In the mainframe, James turned to the A.I. “We know Neirbo’s stalling, but we’re no closer to uncovering the whereabouts of 1.”

  The A.I. nodded, folding his arms and nestling his chin against his chest as he pondered a mystery that exasperated even the two massive intelligences. “I do not like this. If we’re missing information, then it’s entirely possible we’re vulnerable. I suggest that we move ahead with our plan of putting the Trans-human candidate through the final phase of its testing as quickly as possible. If we’re going to be facing an unknown threat, it’s preferable that we have Trans-human on our side.”

  “Agreed,” James replied. “I’ll speak with Thel. Let’s arrange for the final testing to begin tomorrow night.

  5

  “Thel?” Old-timer said as Thel’s visage appeared, smiling and relaxed as she lounged on a Venus beach in his mind’s eye. “I’m having trouble locating James. He’s not appearing on my contact list. How is that even possib—”

  “That’s because he doesn’t really have a location at the moment,” Thel said, understanding the problem immediately. “It’s a bit counterintuitive, I know, but, you know, James and quantum physics.”

  Old-timer scratched the back of his head as he stood just a few paces in front of his porch, the dawn’s early light painting the horizon a soft pink, the morning dew forming large droplets on the long blades of grass in front of him. “Come again?”