by Mark Lingane
“Who were those men?”
Michael took a deep breath. “Okay, first let me say that I haven’t seen them before, but I’ve heard stories. And out in the more remote western places you hear rumors. So this isn’t fact, got it?”
Sebastian nodded.
“They’re called cyborgs. Born normally, like you and me, but as you’ve witnessed, they have technology added to make them better—if you can call that better—and they’re controlled by a central machine.”
“Why are they chasing us?”
“At this point in time, your guess is as good as mine. They are cyborgs, byproducts of the Reckoning, and it looks like they’ve been given an instruction to kill you.”
Sebastian gave him an expression hanging between horror and curiosity.
“Look, the world hasn’t always been like this,” Michael continued. “It was once full of people, too full. We put complete trust in things we didn’t understand, then became dependent on those things. We became a great sea of mindless humanity shuffling from one place to another, unable to comprehend the complexity of life going on around us.”
“Sort of like zombies.”
“Not really. A zombie is someone who’s eaten a special plant that makes it more susceptible to hypnosis and mind control.”
“Is that why zombies eat brains? So they can get their minds back?”
“That doesn’t even make sense,” Michael snapped. “They’ll only eat brains if they’re told to. And it’s not as if they carry the tools to do so. You’d need a decent bone saw, a scalpel for the skin, and a spoon.”
“What about salt?”
“Good grief, no. The brain’s already quite full of salts, due to its acidic nature.” Michael paused for a moment, scratching some abstract letters in the soil. “Why are we even talking about this? We need a plan.” He picked up a stick and drew a rough map of the location. “I think we’re here.”
He pointed to a square in the mud. He drew a squiggly line a few inches from the square and pointed to the other side of the line. “There’s a small lumber community not far from here, about a half hour’s ride past the river. I’ve been there a few times to help with cattle and horses. They’re good, strong people. We can rest and gather some supplies there. Other than that, we’re a day’s ride from anywhere of note.”
Sebastian scratched away at the dirt, waiting for Michael to continue. He didn’t like the idea of cyborgs being instructed to kill him. “Tell me about the Reckoning.”
Michael sighed. “It was a thousand years ago. All we have are stories written and rewritten as the millennium passed. What is true is questionable.”
“Please. It’ll take my mind off things.”
Michael looked into the boy’s sad, exhausted eyes and weakened. “All right, I’ll give you the abridged version, then we must get moving.” He cleared his throat. “One version states that we lived in a time called the Information Age. Before that we had other ages like the Iron Age and the Bronze Age. Each age saw the development of mankind as we moved toward becoming more civilized.”
“What are we in now?”
“Please, hold all questions until the end. If you must know, those who travel to other parts of the world call it the Second Age. Continuing, as we became more civilized, we found we had more recreational time. And a side effect of extra recreation time is … um … re-creation. The Earth’s population grew rapidly. Eventually billions of people were crammed on the planet with little to do. So small smart devices were invented—full of ideas and fun distractions—which got smarter and more useful.”
Michael cupped his hand around an imaginary device. Sebastian thought back to the tinyIris, which seemed a mile away from something smart and useful that might provide fun distractions.
“These devices became integral to the way everyone lived,” Michael continued. “Each device would learn about its owner and predict what they might want to do next. Then the devices would communicate together to see what similar people would do and then recommend that to their owner. In the end, people couldn’t make any decision without their devices. Every part of the day was monitored. From what they ate, to who they talked to, who they should talk to, what they read, what they should read. Always suggesting. People became lazy. Eventually the suggestions became instructions. Sounds like the cyborgs, doesn’t it?”
“It’s like they carry their brain on the outside. I saw a cyborg device. It had tinyIris written on the back. And everyone was like this?”
Michael gave a small shrug. “Yes, until the huge disaster.”
He paused. “No one’s sure, but something happened that caused a huge tsunami to flood into several countries containing a vast amount of weaponry designed to poison the air and water. Systems malfunctioned, we think, and the weapons were launched around the world, targeting the densest population centers. Most were in the northern hemisphere. Down under, here, there were hardly any people, so hardly any weapons landed, just enough to wipe out the six major cities. And there’s a lot of space in between the cities.”
“Is that where zombies come from?”
“Enough with the zombies.”
“What about Canberra?”1
“Okay, that was already full of zombies, and no one noticed, but nowhere else. Anyway, only a few survived. The people who were left split into two groups: those who rejected the devices—us—and those who couldn’t continue without them. We believe it was a warning. Never build something you can’t understand.”
Michael scratched the stick idly in the soil. “For a thousand years, those poor souls have been listening to those devices. Who knows what they’ve been told, what lies they’ve been sold.”
“But how did cyborgs evolve?”
“They didn’t evolve. The cyborgs incorporate the latest technology around themselves and right into their bodies. It started simply enough. The devices had bits you could add on, like glasses or watches. They could record what you saw, explain what you were looking at. It grew from there. Wearable devices that drowned wearers in so much information they couldn’t make any decisions. Maybe the devices suggested implanting the machines and the people followed along. Or maybe some big snake-oil salesman with an alphabet of ideas, came along and told them it was what they had to do. A clever man with fancy words can sell anything, even a bad idea.”
“Who would do this?”
“Names are spoken, Joshua Richards being the main one. You’ve probably heard people using their names when they’re angry. Or hit their thumb with a hammer. But they’re only stories.”
Sebastian nodded. “Mom said the Joshua name a lot. Usually when she was on her horse and other riders got in the way.” He placed his hands in his pockets. A look of surprise crossed his face. He pulled out the letter from his mother. He grasped it with both hands and stared at it.
“What is it?”
“It’s the only thing I have left from my mother.”
“A letter?”
He nodded. He opened the envelope carefully and extracted its contents. He unfolded the letter and read it quietly.
Michael remained quiet until Sebastian had finished. “Anything you wish to discuss?”
Sebastian wiped a tear from his eyes. “It says she was …” he paused. “And she would always …” he paused again, unable to complete his sentence. He took a couple of deep breaths. “She says I should go to the Academy and ask for Nikola.”
“I assume she means the Steam Academy. It’s a long way from here.”
Something glittery, a thin gold chain, fell out of the envelope onto the ground. Sebastian picked it up. Sand fell from his fingers as he dangled it in front of his face. Hanging at the bottom was a tiny but ornate ‘N.’
Michael’s eyes flicked between the diminutive ‘N’ to the letter in Sebastian’s hand. He went to say something, then thought better of it.
Sebastian started to rub his forehead as a mild headache eased its way in.
“I could’ve gone to the Academ
y,” Michael said. “They asked me.” He looked up into the treetops. “But animals are better. They don’t break your heart then stab you in the back.”
Sebastian folded up the letter and carefully replaced it in the delicate envelope with the gold chain. He tucked it in the inside pocket of his tunic, next to his heart. His headache was getting worse. Color drained from his face.
“Are you all right?” asked the vet.
“My head, it’s getting—”
2
A BEAM OF light lanced out of the forest, searing through the leg of the stallion. It shrieked in terror and collapsed, its eyes roaming wildly as life ebbed from it.
“My horse!” cried Michael.
Out of the surrounding trees came a dozen cyborgs, encircling them, leaving no way out.
Sebastian held his head and tears streaked his cheeks. “The pain,” he whispered.
A silent wave rolled outwards. The black-clad men marched forward, then slowed. They stood motionless. They looked from one to the other. One looked at the tinyIris in his hand. He shook the device and looked back to the others. He shrugged.
Sebastian fought against the pain, trying to remain conscious.
Michael grabbed him as he began to fall, lifted him onto his shoulder, and ran through the trees. “It’s you. You do something to them,” he shouted to Sebastian. “Do you know what it is?”
“No. My head hurts and it just happens.”
The vet leaped through the undergrowth, ducking through the trees. His foot caught on a thick root and they stumbled. Michael struggled back to his feet, and hauled Sebastian up. They staggered off, with the bushes exploding around them.
They erupted out of the forest at the edge of a cliff. Michael clutched at Sebastian as he hovered over the edge, swaying above the hundred-foot plunge.
He saw that the drop decreased significantly to the south and ran in that direction, dragging Sebastian along, looking for a way down. Tree branches whipped at them as they ran along the sloping ground.
A dozen yards ahead, a cyborg appeared out of the undergrowth and faced them. They turned to escape. More were behind, trapping them on the precipice. Michael picked up Sebastian and charged downhill, toward the lone cyborg. His footing gave way and they tumbled over the edge and down the loose earth into the ravine below.
Michael clutched Sebastian to him as they fell. He dug the heels of his solid boots into the soil on the cliff face as they slid, trying to slow their descent. He grabbed at the small plants that jutted out until his hand was covered in blood. Then he lost his footing completely and they rolled out of control, gaining speed. As the base of the cliff approached, the vet twisted as best he could and positioned Sebastian above him.
They crashed into the hard earth, with Michael taking the brunt of the impact. Sebastian fell to one side, the breath knocked from him. Critical seconds passed as they recovered from the impact.
The cyborg at the rear of the pack slipped a metal spear into the arm attachment, then shot it into a tree, trailing a thin metal rope. The cyborgs worked in unison, interlocking their limbs to pivot as they descended the face, clutching onto the rope. They formed into two parties as they reached the base and approached Michael and Sebastian from both sides. The river lay only a dozen yards away. Sebastian’s memory flashed back to the first time he had seen one of their kind, dead in the water.
He shook the vet, who groaned. “Dr. Filbert, we must go.”
“I … can’t,” the vet whispered. “You must … run.”
“Not without you. I don’t even know the way.” He grabbed Michael’s arm and they crawled toward the river.
The black-clad men had caught up and were within yards.
Michael pushed Sebastian into the water. “Go. I’ll follow.”
Sebastian waded out into the water. He checked that Michael was coming, but the vet was still on the bank. He had collapsed and was surrounded by the cyborgs.
Michael waved Sebastian onward. “Go!”
The cyborg clasped another spear and stepped up to the vet. Michael yelled in pain as the steel bolt sliced through his thigh. The cyborg started to drag Michael down the river. He screamed all the way.
Sebastian, with his head pounding, continued across the river. He emerged onto the far bank, exhausted, and collapsed onto the wet sand. He looked back, and as he watched desperately across the water, a large cyborg broke away from the group and took several paces back from the riverbank, methodically measuring the distance. He pivoted around and faced the river. Panels hissed and groaned as they rearranged themselves on his legs.
Sebastian could hear the pounding on the ground as the cyborg took long loping strides. He watched in terror as the cyborg leaped clean over the river, landing solidly on his feet.
The black-clad man glanced at Sebastian, then looked at his tinyIris, before turning toward a nearby tree. Light lanced out and cut into the base of the trunk. The cyborg walked behind the tree and pushed. The tree fell across the river and the other cyborgs started to make their way over the makeshift bridge.
Sebastian tried to scramble away from the river with constant pain driving into his head. A deafening screech boomed out and a shadow fell over him. Above him roared a great beast with wings the size of houses. Fire erupted from its head and cut across the sky. Sebastian felt the heat on the ground.
The beast wheeled and glided down. The earth shook as it landed. It turned its head and stared at Sebastian with two glowing, malevolent eyes.
Sebastian gasped as terror gripped him. The beast roared again, and fire billowed out over the river. Sebastian clutched at his ears as the ferocious noise ripped into him. The great beast stepped forward, its head swinging from side to side, thud-scrape-thud echoing through the forest.
Sebastian wheeled around and fled into the woods, shaking with fear, with the unrelenting cyborgs in pursuit.
3
ISABELLE FELT SHE’D been floating in the infinite blackness, deprived of her senses and alone with her shattered memories for an eternity. She had wept over vague recollections of those she had lost, reinforced by a deep, desperate longing from the isolation. All the while, the waves gently lapped at her body. The roof and walls around her gained shape, and she could see the shimmering water surrounding her, kissed by the moonlight.
Her attention was drawn to a scraping to one side. She slowly rolled over to see if she could identify anything in the darkness. The shadows slowly moved.
“Who’s there?” she whispered.
“It’s us. Me. Ari and Gilly.”
“Huh?”
“We found you in the desert,” said Ari.
“Desert?”
“You had the sickness bad, but we brought you here to the healing caves and gave you the medicine.”
“Medicine?”
“Goanna blood and redtail venom. It flushes the sickness out of you’s.”
“Venom?”
“Yeah, you’ll come good if you survive the venom,” said Gilly.
She rolled onto her back and groaned. Every part of her body ached.
“Lucky you survived. You was so sick you was nearly glowing in the dark,” said Ari.
“I feel like I’ve swallowed glass.” She could smell something sweet. It made her stomach growl. Then she smelled something so disgusting it made her want to vomit. “What’s that awful smell?”
“It’s the sickness that’s been flushed out of you. Don’t worry, it’s the same for everyone.”
“What am I lying in?”
“Better not to know.”
She raised herself up, ran her hands over her body and gasped. “Where are my clothes?” She covered herself with her arms. “Lookawaylookawaylookaway.”
“Flushing the sickness out means just that,” Ari said. “It makes a big mess. And the smell’s pretty bad. Stays in those thick white-fella clothes forever.” He threw her a bundle of soft material—fur. “We skinned some rabbits. You can tie the hide around yourself, but you still got
lots of healing to go.”
Isabelle fumbled with the skins. The soft fur felt warm and gentle on her skin. It was never going to be a tailored fit, but for now, as she tightened the ends on either side, it was the best and only clothing she had.
She could distinguish the figures more clearly now. Her vision was still bad, but she could see that they were Aborigines.
“I’m thinking you need some tucker by now,” Ari said.
Isabelle could barely see the arm extended toward her, but her nose did the seeing. She grabbed the cooked rabbits and ravenously tore at the meat, wolfing it down.
“How long have I been here?”
“Dunno,” said Ari. “Maybe a bit longer than Gilly’s walk.”
She frowned. “How long’s that?”
“Not much longer than when Uncle Jianara left the cattle by Westlake billabong.”
The men laughed.
“That was a mess,” said Gilly.
They nodded and watched as Isabelle drifted off into unconsciousness.
The woodsman drew back his axe and aimed at the large tree. He had been sharpening his axe all morning and now it could slice silk. Its mirrored sides gleamed in the sunlight. He stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth and tensed his muscles.
“Well, ol’ mate, it’s been you’s and me for years, but it’s time for you’s to go. And this time it’s for real. The fence needs fixin’ and the missus has spoken.”
As the man swung, Sebastian came tearing out of the trees. The woodsman twisted the axe and the back of the blade cracked into his ankle. He hopped in a circle, quietly swearing.
“Joshuz, boy! Where’d you’s come from?”
“Help me! I’m being chased,” cried Sebastian.
The lightbeam came in flat, slicing toward them. The woodsman managed to swing his axe head into the path of the laser, just as it started to cut into his clothes. It bounced up off the angled face into the trees above. It seared through a branch high up, which broke off and fell, narrowly missing them.