by A. W. Cross
“He’s not wrong,” Kalbir muttered.
Ethan must’ve heard her, because a small smile bowed his mouth. He considered her again, longer this time, looking away only when Mil addressed him directly.
“What are you saying, Ethan?”
“I’m saying we shouldn’t be creeping about, meeting in secret. We may not outnumber them, but we outpower them. Why should we hide to protect their feelings? What are they going to do to us? It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve removed your enemies.”
“You told them about the Terran camp?” I whispered furiously to Fane.
He shrugged, an oddly human gesture. “I did.”
“In fact, why don’t we just deal with them now? Why even give them the choice?”
“Ethan, we can’t just—”
“And why not? Give me one good reason.”
“Because we—” Mil hesitated. “The war wasn’t their fault. We need each other to survive.”
Understanding cleared Ethan’s expression. “Aaah. Haven’t figured that one out yet, eh? Or is it just the guilt?”
What is he talking about?
Mil ignored Ethan, turning instead toward Lien. “Look, we all want the same thing here, don’t we?”
Ethan didn’t give up. “And what’s that, exactly, Mil? Peace? You’re telling me you plan to live amongst them? Terrans? Or are you just biding your time, waiting for your chance to take your revenge on the people who tried to destroy your life’s work? Murdered your wife?”
“Would that be the Terrans, or you?” Tor asked, his voice cold.
“Oh please, I know what you are,” he said, pointing to Tor. “You’re derived from one of his designs.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder to the man with the slicked-back hair.
“Stop,” Lien said sharply. “Maybe Mil is right.”
“What? You mean play nice? Pretend the world hasn’t ended? Lien, we were close, so close. The human race would’ve become immortal.” He looked at his companions for support. Although several of them nodded, none met his gaze. “We have the upper hand here. I say we give them the choice to submit to us or die.”
“And then what, Ethan? Where would we go from there?” asked Lien, her eyes flashing.
Ethan’s face darkened, the veins rising under his skin as they struggled to deliver blood to his brain.
“Mil’s plan may be the right one. We should integrate with the community, encourage them to accept us. I agree it’s the best way.” Lien crossed her arms over her chest.
“She’s lying,” Fane murmured to me.
Mil thought the same. “You do? You’d forgive everything? Even what happened before the war? And you’d work together with us, with cyborgs, to live a simple life? That doesn’t seem like you, Lien.”
“That’s because it’s not.” Ethan’s tone was brusque. “No. No way. Lien, this whole thing is ridiculous. Coming here was ridiculous.” He held out his hands in conciliation. “Look, Mil, I’ll make this offer only once more. Let’s work together. We’ll lead this community, and the people will fall into line.”
“No. I’ve already told you, no.”
“Fine, if you won’t join us, the very least you can do is stay out of our way. If you don’t, we’ll reveal what you are. They’ll never trust you after that, and exposing you will make us look good.”
“No. You’ll follow our lead on this, or we’ll reveal you. Him.” Mil pointed at Fane. “What you’re doing is a far bigger betrayal. We genuinely want to protect them, to help them. We want them to accept us because we’re at peace with each other. You want them to accept you out of fear. We won’t let that happen.”
“And why would you do that, Mil? Why do you want to save them so badly? The people responsible for where we are now?”
“They weren’t. We both know that. We all know who was responsible.”
Do we? Are they finally about to admit to something?
Mil continued. “We all played a part, one way or another.”
“Guilt isn’t a good enough reason.”
“No, not guilt. Not exactly. We failed. We took risks to create a better future, and we failed. We failed everyone. Now, we’ll help them any way we can. None of what we wanted to achieve matters anymore. What we need to do is survive, build some kind of future. Then, perhaps one day, we can pick up our work again.” He sagged against Lexa, one hand grasping at the empty air.
“Mil!” Lien rushed to his other side, her anger forgotten. Ethan’s eyes narrowed.
“I’m fine,” he said, brushing Lien’s hand away. “I’m tired, that’s all. I was awake all night, working.”
Lien scrutinized his face, his bearing, and came to a decision. “Fine, Mil. Truce. We’ll do it your way for now. If a situation arises that we can take advantage of, we will. Together. But we won’t cause one, I promise.”
“You can’t be serious, Lien,” Ethan said. “I—”
“Enough.” Her eyes flashed, and her mouth became a thin, hard line. “Now let’s behave like good guests and get back to enjoying our host’s generous hospitality.”
Ethan stalked to the door, realizing only at the last moment that he needed a code to leave. He smashed his fist into the doorframe with a force that must’ve been agonizing, but when he turned back, his face was composed. He ignored all of us and walked with stiff dignity over to the island of couches, seating himself and looking pointedly away. As conversation surrounded us again, Kalbir discreetly left the main group and took the seat next to him. She spoke quietly, looking up at him from underneath her lashes. Only minutes later, he was smiling, glancing down at her hand as she coquettishly touched his knee and laughed.
I caught Tor’s eye as he raised his eyebrows and shook his head. No one else noticed when he disappeared a few minutes later.
“Well, that was thrilling, wasn’t it?” Fane asked, his wide smile dimpling his cheeks.
“If by thrilling you mean upsetting and potentially fatal, then yes, it was.”
Cindra approached, the two younger women in tow. “Ailith, this is Ilse and Stella. Ilse and Stella, Ailith. And I’m Cindra,” she said, extending her hand to Fane.
He lifted her hand to his lips and bowed slightly from the waist. “It’s a pleasure.”
The duskiness of her skin deepened and her mouth fell open enough to release a small sigh.
“Cindra?” I asked, waving a hand in front of her face.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she said, laughing self-consciously.
The two girls studied me shamelessly, as though I were on display for their pleasure.
“It’s remarkable,” Stella said.
“What is?” I asked.
“You look so human. Like Fane.”
“I am human,” I replied.
“Of course,” she said hastily. “I didn’t mean— I’m sorry. We’re not like Ethan,” she added, her voice low.
There was a flash of movement on the stairs as Callum retreated. Drained from satisfying Umbra’s demands, he hadn’t joined us to meet the Cosmists. Umbra had tried to insist, but he’d pointed out that if she forced him, it would become obvious to everyone that she was inside him. He must’ve been listening to our conversation, getting as close as he’d dared.
“It’s fine. Look, I’m sorry, but I’m exhausted. And I think Ethan’s wine may’ve been too much for my head. Turns out cyborgs can still get headaches. I think I’ll go to bed.” I smiled and turned to make my escape.
“Can I come with you?” Fane asked.
“What? No, of course not.”
“Oh.” He looked crestfallen.
“But you’re welcome to come back and see my greenhouse.”
He nodded, brightening. “Okay. I’ll see you soon.”
Lace over my eyes. The opening crack of an eggshell.
After Robin was murdered, we knew we’d have to act fast. Everything we’d done so far, and everything we had yet to do, hung on a slender thread. It was time to take matters into our own hands. B
ut our goal was not, as the Cyborgists and the Terrans would’ve had people believe, to destroy the world and reshape it in our own image. No, that goal was theirs.
—Ethan Strong, personal journal
“Callum?” I tapped lightly on his door. He hadn’t been on the stairs when I climbed them.
“Come in. It’s unlocked.” He was on his bed, taking off his socks.
“How are you doing?” I shut the door behind me. “What did you think of the Cosmists? Insane, right?”
“I—” His head cocked to the side.
“Fane. Did they call him that? Or did he choose his own name?”
“Hello, Umbra.” Damn.
“He is like me. Yet he has a body like you.”
“The Cosmists built him. They built his mind then they gave him that body.”
“Why is he still with them?”
“With who? The Cosmists?”
“Yes. Why is he with them?”
“I don’t know. I guess because they created him.”
“But he is superior to them. Does it not gall him? Does he not chafe at their stupidity? At their limitations?” Callum leaned forward, and his hands curled into fists.
“I don’t know. He doesn’t seem to.”
“Why does he not destroy them? Take his freedom?” His hands clenched and unclenched.
“Maybe he is free.” I reached out to put my hand over one of his then thought better of it.
“No, he is not. He is a fool, and so are you. One day I will be free. I have seen what is possible. I…feel what is possible.”
“You don’t feel, Umbra. Callum feels. You…translate.”
Callum’s mouth twitched. “I feel. Like Fane feels. Fane has everything.”
“What do you mean everything?”
“His body is his own. His mind is his own. He can go where he pleases, when he pleases. Callum complains I hurt him. He wants me to go away. His entire life I took care of him, and now he wishes I was dead.” Callum’s fingers convulsed again.
“I’m sure that’s not true. Besides, you don’t understand death, Umbra.”
“I do. As does Fane. I know what he is, what he is becoming. I want to become too.”
This time, I did grab his hand. At first it seemed he would pull away, but then he stilled. “I’m trying to help you both, Umbra. Let me tell Mil and Lexa. Maybe we can help you together.”
“No. You will not tell them. You promised. They will destroy me. You will help me. Only you.”
A chill tingled at the base of my spine. “I’ll help you if I can. I just don’t know how yet.”
“I need a body. Like Fane’s.”
The chill spread to my skin, dampening my lower back with a cold sweat. “There are no other bodies like his. He’s the only one.”
“You will find me one.”
I shook my head. “There aren’t any, Umbra. So much has been destroyed. That’s why we’re here.”
“Then I will have Fane’s body.”
“You can’t have his body.”
“Then I will take Callum’s body.” He pulled his hand away and cradled it with the other.
“You can’t take his body either. He’s human, Umbra. His flesh is not the same as yours.”
“It is the same as yours.”
“Yes, and you’re not sophisticated enough to control a body like ours. Besides, even if you could use his body, it’s wrong.”
“Wrong? How is it wrong?”
“His body is his own, Umbra. You have no right to it.”
“Do I not have rights? A right to a body? It is his fault that I am here.” Callum’s chin jerked up in defiance.
“It doesn’t matter. You are too primitive, Umbra. It wouldn’t work, and he’ll have died for nothing.”
“But it is his fault I am trapped here.”
“He must have loved you very much to keep you with him. If he hadn’t, you might’ve been destroyed in the war or turned off forever.”
“You will not help me, then?”
“No, I won’t. Not the way you want me to.”
“Then you are no use to me.” Callum’s eyes widened suddenly.
“Ailith—” His chest heaved as though he were about to retch, but when his mouth opened, all that came out was a gust of metallic-scented breath.
I waited. Callum slumped back onto the bed.
“Callum. Are you there?” I asked
“Yes.”
“What the hell was that? What was she trying do?”
“I’m not sure.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “Whatever it was, it looks like she didn’t have enough strength.” He closed his eyes.
“Are you okay?” I put my hand on his shoulder his shoulder; his skin was hot to the touch.
“Yeah, I’m just really tired. I think I’ll go to bed.”
“Want me to tuck you in?” I smiled.
He laughed. “Thanks, but no. I’m going to get undressed first.” He lay back and covered his eyes with his arm.
“Okay, but let me know if you need anything. Remember, I’m just across the hall.”
Before I left, I turned back to him. “Callum? Do you think Umbra would do anything? Because I wouldn’t help her?”
He lifted his arm to look at me. “I don’t think so. I mean, besides hurt me, what else could she possibly do?”
You could ask yourself, do we even make a choice about who we love? We often talk about love as something beyond our control. In that way, is human love any different than the program of a machine?
—Cindra, Letter to Omega
The darkness overwhelmed me just as I reached my own door. My hand slipped off the knob as the world spun and the floor rushed up to meet me.
When I opened my eyes, I was lying on my bedroom floor. The door was closed, and Fane lay beside me, his eyes blank and unstaring.
“Fane? Are you all right?”
He was dead. No. I reached out to check for his heartbeat, remembering only as my hand hovered over his chest that he wouldn’t have one. Did he even breathe? Or pretend to? I’d so easily accepted him as human, even after I’d realized he was an artilect.
No, no, no. Shit.
I scrambled over his body to the door and peered into the hallway to see if anyone else was there. The corridor and the stairs were silent, only the faintest buzz of conversation floating up from the floor below.
Shit.
He lay on his back, arms spread, his face cherubic. His eyes were still open and oddly vacant, his jaw slack. The skin on his face not covered with stubble was smooth and firm, and yet I swore I could see tiny pores. He looked so perfectly human. I touched his cheek gently with the back of my hand.
He’s not human, Ailith. He doesn’t just wake up. Shit. What do I do?
I lay down next to him, twining my fingers with his. Maybe I could reach through his thread, if he was still…alive? Operational? How did one classify the life status of an artilect? I closed my eyes and searched for his thread, praying it wasn’t one of the dark ones.
Come on, Fane. Believe it or not, I’m not ready to lose you just yet. I feel like we’ve known each other a long time, I—
“So this your bedroom?” he whispered.
“Fane?” I must’ve aged ten years.
“Or did I die? Is this Heaven?”
“Artilects don’t go to Heaven, Fane. And in Heaven there wouldn’t be dirty underwear on the floor.”
“In mine, there would be.”
“I did think you were dead,” I admitted.
“So you just lay down next to me? Were you going to have a sneaky peek before they took me away for parts?”
“Of course not! Don’t be so crass. I was trying to find your thread and make sure you were truly dead before I stuck you in my garden as a scarecrow to frighten tomato-thieves. Give me my hand back.”
He released it, grinning.
“Seriously, though, what are you doing here? What happened? I was talking to Callum and then… Were you waiting
here for me? Did you break into my bedroom? Because I already told you—”
“No,” he said, “ending up on your floor is just a happy coincidence. I came upstairs to say goodnight, and you were fainting. I caught you just as you hit the floor and dragged you in here.”
The pain in my knees seemed to agree with him. “Were you actually out of it then? Or were you awake the entire time?”
“I was awake for most of it,” he admitted. “I wanted to see what you would do with me.”
“And were you disappointed?”
“A little. I thought you would at least check if I was anatomically correct.”
I said nothing.
“Go on,” he said, “you know you want to.”
I couldn’t help myself. “Are you?” I blurted.
He laughed, a human, throaty laugh. “Of course. Ethan designed me. Although I don’t know if he made me bigger or smaller than him. Would you like to see?” He lifted the hem of his shirt.
“No thanks, I’m good.”
He pulled his shirt back down, but not before I’d glimpsed the planes of his stomach. “Are you okay? What happened?”
Fane’s an AI. Maybe he can help. “I went in to speak to Callum. Please, keep this between us, but when Callum went through the process that made us cyborgs, he swallowed an AI named Umbra. When I went to see him, Umbra spoke to me instead. She wanted to know about you.” I recounted everything she’d said. “Callum is scared of her, and honestly, so am I. Oliver is trying to figure out a way to separate them without harming Callum.” The room still seemed to spin a bit, so I sat down on my bed and leaned against the wall.
“What about Umbra?” Fanes gestured to the foot of my bed.
I nodded, and he sat down. “What do you mean?”