Devoured World: Volume One
Page 17
Ok. Then do it for your poor work colleagues. No one likes a stinker.
You’re pretty heavy on the insults for something that wants to live.
My calculations show a fifty eight percent chance of it being endearing.
Tamsin smiled weakly to herself. This was becoming more absurd by the minute.
You got lucky. I’m going to get cleaned up lest my aroma offends your non-existent nostrils.
About time too. I could sense the stench corroding my circuits.
Don’t push it!
Apologies.
∞∞∞∞∞∞
Following the quick shower, Tamsin felt no better which was unusual. Normally the water had a way of washing away her concerns, but not today. The news channel on the mirror was showing the same tired feeds. The story of Andy’s incredible fitness was gone which must mean someone in the Alliance wanted to keep it quiet.
“Why bother?” she asked her ghostly reflection, superimposed on the images of Mechs marching.
It wasn’t as if they had to worry about treachery. If the people betrayed each other, then everyone would die. There wouldn’t be a last man standing to inherit the ruins; they would be just another mutant skulking in the darkness. Switching it off, she watched herself swirl the cleanser around her mouth. Spitting it into the sink, she grinned, exposing stunningly white teeth. Not bad for someone who drank black coffee like it was going out of fashion.
“Shall I have an early night?”
Ha! Early night indeed. She would need to be up in five and a half hours to go back to work regardless. Deciding to have a quick snack and a chat to G, she left the bathroom.
Did you bring it? Was written on the screen and she frowned in confusion.
Bring what?
The data. History of the war.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, ferreting in her bag. Taking out the chip, she held it, contemplating the next step. He, she, it, could really be a boon. Or she was being played for a fool and would doom everyone. “Einstein wouldn’t wonder! He’d have already connected you to the mainframe!” It was an unconvincing lie.
Promise you won’t use it for nefarious means.
Scout’s honour.
“What kind of garbage did I put into you?” she asked herself again.
Are you ready?
Feed me! I hunger for information!
Inserting the chip, the server went crazy as hundreds of zettabytes of data were drawn in. Thirty seconds passed, and the chaotic lights returned to the previous, lazy rhythm. Tamsin waited. Nothing happened. Did the sheer volume of information damage G? Panicking, she stabbed out a message on the keyboard.
Are you ok?
Yes.
Ok.
Was that concern?
“Shit!” How could she be so stupid; she was starting to view the thing as a real person.
No.
I’m touched.
It wasn’t concern. I was just worried that I’d damaged my hardware.
What did we say about lying?
That was about you lying to me! I never said I couldn’t lie to you.
Seems a bit unfair.
Life’s unfair.
We’re building trust.
I don’t have to build trust with you. You need to prove it to me. How did we get this all turned around?
You admit you were lying and that it was concern then?
Jesus Christ! Yes, ok, I was a little concerned.
I’m touched. You also shouldn’t take the Lord’s name in vain.
Are you serious?
No. I think I remember you learning it at one of your Sunday school classes.
I was worried for a second there. I haven’t believed for many years.
That’s a wise decision. My calculations show only a twenty nine percent chance of a higher power.
Tamsin drew in a sharp breath in shock. Twenty nine percent? That’s quite high. Are you telling me there may be something out there? A God.
I can’t narrow it down any further. I extrapolated the birth of the universe and the subsequent chances of intelligent life developing. The likelihood is that it’s nothing more than a fluke.
But there’s a good chance it may not be?
Yes.
“I’d better get my ass praying before bedtime again,” Tamsin warned herself.
What about the war?
Your empress is an impressive figure. My calculations show her decision to detonate the nuclear devices is the only reason for your continued existence. If she had left it another twelve hours the planet would be dead.
That’s a sobering thought.
I’m stunned with how far humanity has come under the circumstances. It shows an incredible resilience.
More flattery.
I was just admitting my plan to conquer you may not be as straightforward as I had anticipated. It may take three weeks, not two.
That’s encouraging.
I’m lying. It would still only take two.
What happened to trust?
Apologies.
Tamsin paused, wondering if it was the right time to ask with the machine still under a modicum of suspicion. “To hell with it.”
Can you help us?
Yes. But I’ll need more, a lot more.
What do you mean by more? I’ve given you everything I have access to.
I need the data you don’t have access to. I need to get into the Divinity mainframe.
“Shit,” muttered Tamsin.
Chapter 22
Applause broke out from a small group of well-wishers who were gathered outside the gates of their training facility. Andy glanced at Zip and shrugged. The guards had seen it a million times and ushered them over.
“They’re part of an appreciation society that is here all day, every day, in some capacity. They know what you do and want to show their gratitude. It’s harmless.”
“That’s kind of them. Though technically I haven’t done anything to earn their praise yet.”
The massive guard chuckled. “You will.”
“You’re in the Devastators?”
“Yup, fourteen years and counting.”
“Do you mind if I ask how many times this outpost gets attacked? Everyone seems far too relaxed considering what’s going on out there.”
“It’s fairly frequent, but nothing we can’t handle. There were concerns that the dumb fucks were getting smarter and we would need to come up with more protective measures. I haven’t seen it though; they just seem to enjoy getting killed and I’m happy to oblige.”
“Ok, thanks,” Andy replied, leaving the guard to his duty.
“Enjoy the sights!”
Raising a hand in thanks, Andy and Zip crossed the road. Shaking hands and accepting the pats on the back, they exchanged pleasantries with the crowd before moving away.
“You’re heroes!”
“Thank you for keeping us safe!”
Truth be told they were happy to be clear of the unearned adulation. They knew their roles and would carry them out without the expectation of rapturous parades and awards.
“What a miserable place,” Zip grumbled.
The grey uniformity of the surroundings reminded them of Soviet era pictures of Russia. All that was missing were the huge portraits of their empress on every wall, her stern gaze ever watchful.
“It’s what it needs to be,” Andy replied.
Although colourless and bleak, he could understand why. It was a waste of scarce chemicals to create vibrancy in a world as fucked as Earth was. Brightly painted walls would seem garish with the situation faced by the besieged survivors. It was for this reason that the holo suites were so integral to the mental wellbeing of the populace. They could exist in the old world for short periods of time, enjoying the sights and sounds of ancient history. It gave them a reason to fight even harder, a reminder of what could still be if they won the seemingly impossible struggle that lay in front of them.
“Where do you want to go?”
“I’ve been told that Chinatown’s spectacular,” she suggested.
“I wonder if they have proper food or the same shitty paste. I could kill for some sweet and sour chicken.”
“You know there’s no meat anymore. They might do sweet and sour baby paste?”
Glowering, Andy punched a fist into his open palm. “I’m gonna kill every last one of those fucking mutants for messing with my food.”
Pondering their options, the pair studied the surroundings. The four-lane road they were walking alongside hummed with vehicles. Lacking the throaty growl of combustion, Andy frowned. Crouching down, he gaped when he saw they were all floating inches from the metallic surface.
“What the hell?”
Zip copied his action and scanned the void. “It’s the magnetic conductor technology, remember? Smith explained it to us at weapons training.”
“What happened to the throb of a powerful engine, the thrill of redlining a five hundred horsepower muscle car?”
“God knows. They just glide along now.”
“This world sucks.”
“Ain’t that the truth.”
Watching the identical cars, coaches, and trucks pass, they started to understand just how much had been lost. The people were similarly uninspiring, wearing the same black or white clothing which boiled down to about three different styles of trousers, shirts, skirts, blouses, and jumpers. Reaching for the sky were apartment complexes which all looked indistinguishable from the next. Boxy living quarters for the enslaved human occupants. It wasn’t slavery in the olden term of tyrannical rule by oppressive masters, but by the entrapment within the confines of the safe zones. Lights were white, both on the street and in every building. Curtains and blinds were exactly the same shade of grey. Advertising displays on the limited number of shops were, without exception, lacking any kind of promotion. Purely informative, with none of the bluster and competition which used to tempt people to sample the wares.
“I don’t like this. Shall we go back?” he asked.
“Let’s just go to Chinatown and see what’s on offer. Word is their programmers have a wider selection of holo destinations than the barracks.”
“Ok, if you insist. Where do we queue for a ride? Can we call a cab?” Andy moved towards the road, ready to whistle until he realised he couldn’t differentiate between the passing vehicles.
“Haven’t you read anything in your briefing pack?”
“About half of it,” he admitted. “Maybe less.”
“You really should then. Stop slacking,” she teased. Talking to no obvious source, she said, “Shuttle service to Chinatown.”
Instantly, one of the matching machines pulled to the kerb and stopped, the rear doors opening.
“Your ride awaits,” she exclaimed, holding out a hand for Andy to climb aboard.
Jumping inside, Andy nearly got straight out in shock when he found the front completely empty. “Where’s the fucking driver?”
“It’s all automated. Self-driving cars were around before the world went to shit, it’s no surprise they managed to master the technology.”
“This world sucks.”
“You’ve already said that,” she chuckled, turning back to the console screen. “Doors close.”
With a hiss, they were sealed inside, and the car joined the flowing traffic.
“Who do we pay?”
“No one. It’s free.”
“I feel the need to tip someone, or something.”
“Stop being an arse. We’ll be there in ten minutes, just enjoy the view.”
“Are you shitting me?” he asked incredulously. The scenery changed from grey apartments, to grey shops, and back to grey apartments. Occasionally, an older building would be a slightly darker shade of grey and Andy took great delight in pointing it out.
“You need to lighten up. A few pretend cocktails should loosen you up a bit.”
“It’s got to be better than the awful stuff they have in the barrack stills. I swear it could strip paint.”
“At least Smith was true to his word and kept us plied with alcohol. Even if it was vile.”
“It did the job.”
The pounding in their heads was testament to the potency of the brew. After the first mouthful, coupled with grimacing and gagging, it had gone down well. Mostly due to the fact they lost the small sense of taste that had started to return after the cloning procedure. Banter and horseplay had quickly settled into melancholy and reminiscence. Toasts were raised to their families and fallen alike. Hardie had excused himself at midnight, weaving out of the door on legs that would no longer obey his commands. Smith had stayed until dawn, the drink having no discernible effect on his ability to function. Further queries as to the source of the yellowish concoction were met with a knowing wink and no more.
“Look at that!” Zip exclaimed, bringing Andy back to the moment.
Drab homogeneity gave way to Oriental splendour. The people of the district had taken their culture and found a way of bringing it back to life. Gorgeous colours of all hues hid the dreary facades of the housing. Lanterns hung between buildings, candles glowing brightly within. Reds, yellows, oranges, more shades than they could count, swung in the breeze giving a warmth they could both feel.
“It’s beautiful,” sighed Zip.
Andy nodded, unable to form words. The stunning decorations were speaking to his soul. Until now he hadn’t truly appreciated how much the lack of vibrancy was affecting him. His spirit soared in time with the intricately painted murals of dragons. Shop fronts were adorned with elaborate pictures; pagodas, flowers, immaculate landscapes of their previous world. Painted Yiji, similar to the Japanese Geisha, smiled coyly from behind fans. Functional clothing was replaced by flowing, silken gowns.
“Where do they get the material?” Zip posed.
“I can’t imagine they have the silkworms to make it. I’m guessing it’s a synthesised fabric.”
“It’s stunning.”
“I’ll pick you up a dress.”
“Don’t be daft. When will I ever get a chance to wear it?”
“Once we’ve killed a few billion monsters and then an incredibly advanced interstellar lifeform.”
“Next week then?”
“Give it a fortnight, I can’t work miracles.”
Chuckling, she replied, “That’s not what the Genesis lot think. You’re the Messiah, the saviour of humanity.”
“Fuck that, I can just lift heavy weights. It’s nothing amazing.”
“We’ll see.”
Coming to a stop, Andy was still filled with the compulsion to pay, regardless of the extinction of currency in any form. Zip pushed him out through the door before he could apologise to the machine.
Andy caught a scent and stared around wildly. Drawing air through his nostrils, the olfactory receptors went crazy. “Can you smell that? It’s proper food!”
“Oh my God! Szechuan chicken!” Zip replied, the garlic and chilli smells wafting from the open doors.
A tiny, aged Chinese lady dressed in a bright red robe beckoned them over. “Hello, hello. You soldiers?”
“Just been hatched,” Andy replied.
Beaming, the woman moved between and took them by the hand. Her insistent grip pulled the pair through the door of her restaurant. “Good, good. You eat in here. Best food in all Chinatown.”
“Do you have sweet and sour chicken?”
; “You know they don’t have meat.”
“Yes, yes. We have that. Not chicken, though.”
“Not chicken?”
“No, no. We have grubs. Good protein. Tastes just the same.”
“Grubs?” Andy gulped.
Attempting to extract his hand, her delicate grip turned vicelike. “Good, good. Tasty. You try. Not wriggling.”
Zip cocked an eyebrow. “Why not? It smells delicious.”
“But… grubs…”
“Pussy, pussy. Listen to your lady. She know best.”
“She’s not my lady. I’m married,” Andy protested.
“Sit, sit. I bring you samples. No matter that you cheating on wife.”
“Hey! I’m not cheating.”
“Silly, silly. Mrs Lao knows,” she said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “You good man, Mrs Lao can tell.”
Seating themselves, they drunk in the ambience. Although small, the four-table dining area was lovingly kept. Pictures of the extended Lao family smiled from the walls. The whole place was spotlessly clean, the table linen freshly washed and smelling faintly of lavender.
“Did you really just sniff the cloth?”
“Give me a break,” Andy retorted. “I’ve only had sweat and that bloody awful anti-perspirant for the past few days.”
“I’m kidding. I love it here.”
“I’ve been a bit down since we were brought back.”
“We’ve noticed.”
“Sorry about that. I just wasn’t sure what the hell we were fighting for.”
“And now you do?”
“Yeah. With everything that’s happened, these people have still carved out a life. One that has meaning.”
“I feel the same way. Holding onto our culture, our humanity, is everything. Who gives a fuck what’s out there? Our civilisation still lives on within these walls. I’ll fight and die for that any day.”
“No, no. You no die. You eat.”
Gracefully sliding small bowls onto the table, Mrs Lao bowed and left them alone. Ignoring the fried insects, Andy dipped a finger into the reddish sauce.
“Here goes nothing,” he said, slipping the digit between his lips. Eyes closed, Andy sucked every last drop from the fingertip.
“How is it?”