Around him, the refugees gasped and shook their heads in awe. Alara grabbed his hand, using him as a lifeline as she leaned toward the bulging windows to peer down. She sucked in a quick breath and took a quick step back. Ethan smiled, despite how ill he felt. The dose of Bliss he’d received from his father had made him dizzy and sick. Peacekeeper Rovik had explained to him on the way back up that the first few doses of Bliss were always a shock to a person’s system—something about rearranging neurotransmitters and receptors. Users and pushers alike called it Initiation Sickness.
Etheria was much more colorful in the urban sense than the majestic upper city with its vast stretches of low-rise buildings and cultivated parks. As they had seen while staying at the top of Destiny Tower, Celesta was designed so that the people living there could sometimes forget they were living in a planet-wide city. Not so in Etheria. Here metropolitan life was celebrated and emphasized. The city was bright with the neon lights of holo ads and glow panels, bustling with multiple layers of air traffic and elevated streets, and variegated with pedestrians dressed in all kinds of clothes, not just Celestial whites. Here things weren’t so alien, and Ethan actually felt like maybe the people walking the streets were real humans.
Alara squeezed his hand and whispered beside his ear, “Look up!”
Ethan did, and that’s when he noticed something strange. The distance above their heads was at least as far as the distance below, but despite there being another two levels of both streets and traffic between them and the Celestial Wall overhead, Etheria was bright, not cloaked in dark shadows as one might expect. The reason for that was hard to miss. The bottoms of the streets above them were plated with broad glow panels that shone so dazzlingly bright Ethan found it hard to look at them. Then there was the Celestial Wall above that. It was equally blinding, and brighter than he remembered seeing it from the air above Celesta.
“Looks like Omnius built a pipeline to the sun,” Ethan muttered.
“Very bright for such a vertical city,” Atton agreed.
He turned to see his son standing on the other side of him. Beside Atton, the Peacekeeper, Rovik, stood with a hand on the boy’s shoulder. That man’s gravelly voice was the next thing that Ethan heard:
“In Etheria Omnius simulates the rise and fall of the sun with artificial illumination. Paradise would not be paradise if it lay in darkness.”
Ethan shook his head, remembering the deep, depressing gloom in the Null Zone. “So why don’t they do that below the Styx?”
Rovik turned to him, his blue eyes bright with with all the light that the Null Zone didn’t have, as if the Peacekeeper had personally stolen it from them.
“We don’t say that the Nulls live in darkness just because they have chosen a dark path. It is also literal. They don’t have light in the Null Zone because it is too expensive to produce that much illumination, and the Null government cannot afford such waste. What daylight they can afford to generate is reserved for growing food.”
Ethan scowled and looked away, back out the viewport, gazing down to the bottom of Etheria far below.
“Come,” Rovik said. “Our tour bus is waiting,”
They followed him to a pair of broad doors on one side of the room. Standing to either side of the doors were two more of Omnius’s drones. Omnies. Ethan eyed them curiously. Then the doors slid open and everyone walked through. The Omnies didn’t react to their passing. They just stood there like statues. Curious, Ethan stopped between them and stared at the nearest one.
“Do you have a name?” he tried.
Nothing.
“Hey! Can you even hear me?”
Still no reaction.
Ethan walked straight up to it with one fist raised to punch it in its gleaming metallic chest. Seeing that the drone still didn’t react to him, he cocked his arm back and swung.
Suddenly a sharp pain erupted in his wrist. The drone’s movement was so fast that his eyes hadn’t registered it at all. Maybe he’d blinked at just the wrong moment. Whatever the case, he saw that his fist had stopped mere inches from connecting with the drone’s armor, and its spindly fingers were wrapped tightly around his wrist. The ball-shaped head rolled his way and its red eye fixed him with a bloody stare. The drone’s grip tightened abruptly, and Ethan cried out in pain. His wrist felt like it was about to explode.
Then Rovik appeared, and the drone released him. Ethan gasped from the sudden release of pressure. He was left rubbing his wrist and staring accusingly up at the big red eye of the drone. “Frek! That thing almost broke my wrist!”
“What did you do to it?”
The drone looked away then, as if feeling guilty for its overreaction, but Rovik wasn’t mad at the drone.
“Come on,” he gritted, dragging Ethan through the doors. “You need to watch your step or you’re going to die long before old age finds you.”
“Frek it! Let me go,” Ethan said, struggling.
“Then behave yourself.” Rovik released him, and he almost fell on his nose.
Ethan glowered at the Peacekeeper’s back. “I was just trying to get it to react. They stand there all day, doing nothing!”
“Their job is to react to threats, not small talk. Clearly you identified yourself as a threat. You’re lucky it didn’t kill you.”
Ethan shook his head, outwardly annoyed, but inwardly shaken. He hadn’t been expecting such a violent response when he tried to punch the drone. He couldn’t do the drone any real damage by punching it, and he hadn’t even meant to hit it very hard, but either the drone didn’t know that, or overreacting to threats was part of its programming.
Ethan followed Rovik through the doors and out onto a balcony that led to a waiting air bus. He found Alara already seated inside. She shot him an angry look as he sat down.
“What were you thinking?”
“How do you even know what I did?”
“I was going to go save your ass until Rovik told me get on board and let him deal with it. If there weren’t Peacekeepers around, you could have gotten us both killed!”
Ethan looked away. “Lucky for us they were here then,” he replied.
“Ethan, I’m serious.”
“So am I,” he said, nodding slowly, and turning to look past her, out the side window of the bus. She looked out the window, too, making an irritated noise in the back of her throat after it became apparent that he had nothing else to say for himself.
As the bus began pulling out of the narrow alley where it had parked and into the vast chasm between buildings that they had been looking out on earlier, Ethan’s mind wandered back to the drones.
From what he’d heard they were not sentient or independent. Omnius controlled all of them. Whatever independence the Omnies had was likely governed by automatic sub routines. No doubt a self-defense sub routine had been responsible for almost amputating his hand. Either that, or Omnius had been behind that display of force, and the AI was just itching to make an example out of him.
Whatever the case, the drones were a more direct extension of Omnius’s will than the Peacekeepers would ever be. Peacekeepers followed orders almost without question, but they were still part of a grand society of people that all worshiped Omnius as god. They thought he was good and perfect. Ethan doubted the truth of that, but since everyone else was suckered into believing it, the AI definitely had some appearances to keep up. Which means he can’t order his Peacekeepers to do something atrocious, but with the drones he can be himself—whatever that looks like.
I wonder what your drones are up to when no one’s watching?
The inner voice that Omnius had occasionally used to speak to him since arriving on Avilon was strangely quiet, as if the AI knew the jig was up, and there was no point hiding himself from Ethan anymore.
I’m on to you, he thought, but still there was no reply. Ethan watched the lights of passing holo signs streaking past the air bus. He listened with half an ear as Rovik stood in the aisle between the rows of seats in the bus, desc
ribing what life would be like in Etheria. Ethan couldn’t be bothered to listen. Whatever life was like here, he knew it wasn’t for him. Having Omnius watching his every step . . . telling him what to do, even invading his dreams at night . . .
That was no way to live.
* * *
Atton watched the neon lights of the city blur past the air bus. Animated holo signs caught his eye, each one seeming to leap out at him as he focused on it—no doubt a trick of the ARCs he wore. He watched pedestrians walking on the streets and bridges below, glancing up now and then to keep from getting dizzy. Rows of colored windows streamed by, highly reflective and impossible to see through in the bright, artificial daylight of Etheria. Up ahead Atton saw endless lines of red tail lights stretching out to the horizon, as well as the bright white headlights of oncoming traffic. There were four lanes running in each direction, making the space between the buildings wider than Atton had first suspected. Given the amount of traffic and the risk of collisions, he guessed that the cars were all running on autopilot. Master Rovik confirmed that just a second later, explaining that Omnius controlled all of the cars in Etheria in order to avoid accidents. In his next breath, Rovik said that was not the case in the Null Zone, and accidents were a frequent occurrence there.
Atton turned from watching the sights to focus more squarely on what their tour guide was saying.
“Among the many advantages to life in Etheria, jobs, medical care, and education are all freely available. Even natural abilities can be altered or enhanced via gene therapies. Like Celesta, Etheria is a place of equal opportunity where you can rise as far as your own merit takes you.”
“So, I could be a professional grav ball player?” someone asked.
“I’m not sure what grav ball is, but if you mean to ask whether you can be a professional athlete, the answer is yes. You can be anything you want, but certain jobs are in greater demand and less supply. As a result the the training for certain jobs will cost more, while other jobs will not even be available to you at your citizenry rank. Because a person’s training and education can change overnight via their Lifelink implants, it’s not uncommon to start your career with various undesirable jobs, working your way up until more appealing options become available to you. As refugees, you will all start at the bottom of our society and live just above the Styx.”
“Doesn’t sound equal to me.”
“In a lot of ways it’s easier to gain favor with Omnius, and thus gain rank, when you are at the bottom, because less is expected of you, and those around you are often worse than you and have been stuck there longer. If you are truly of equal merit to say, a high-ranking Celestial, it will not be long before you become his neighbor.”
“What’s your idea of merit?” the same naysayer asked. Atton pegged the man as a former sentinel from the Intrepid.
“It’s not my idea of merit that counts, but Omnius’s. Your merit is represented by your citizenry rank. Your rank is determined by how well you follow Omnius’s commands.”
“So what are these so-called commands?” Atton recognized his father’s voice this time.
“The first command is simple. Serve Omnius above all else, and the second one tells you how to do the first: treat others as you would like them to treat you.”
“All well and good, but what if I’m the only one doing that? Then I get frekked,” Ethan said.
“No, you get promoted, so you move up in our society, figuratively and literally. Then the people around you will be like-minded, and they will treat you just as well as you treat them—sometimes better.”
“That’s all easier said than done,” someone else said. “We’re not wired to think about others all the time.”
Master Rovik smiled. “That is what Avilon and Omnius are for. The more you learn to put others first, the more successful you will become.”
Atton frowned at that, seeing the flaw lurking in that design. He waited for a break in the conversation before adding his thoughts, “If we’re not thinking about personal gain, we won’t push ourselves, and we’ll never reach our full potential. For example, if I give all of my money to the poor, I’ll probably stop working as hard to earn it—maybe I won’t even be aware that I’m slacking off, but I’ll still do it, and then I’ll start making less and giving less, too. Eventually I’ll have nothing to give and I won’t be a productive member of society anymore. At least from an economic standpoint, some kind of balance between selfishness and putting others first makes sense.”
Master Rovik turned to look at him, his glowing blue eyes bright, his lips curving in a faint smile. “Young Master Ortane has just highlighted for you all the reason behind capitalism and a free market economy, but Omnius is well aware of how humans are wired, and a healthy balance is exactly what it takes to succeed in the Ascendancy. If you give all of your money away, you will be neglecting your own family, and you may also stop pushing yourself to do well in your job, both of which will keep you from ascending very far. Despite your generosity, you will be seen as neglecting your social responsibilities. And in case you think about denying yourself for selfish reasons, delaying gratification of self in order to appear less selfish than you are, remember that Omnius knows you better than you know yourself. He can see straight through our motives and he knows when altruism is genuine. Here, you are better off being honest about your flaws and working to improve yourself, because you won’t be able to look any better than you are.”
“That makes sense,” Atton said, “But if Etheria is a paradise, I assume that means there’s no poverty, so isn’t charity unnecessary anyway?”
“No one in Etheria goes without their basic needs being met, not even the lowest ranking citizens, but there are always those less fortunate than yourself, and charity, as you call it, is not given to a particular person, but rather to Omnius. We call this tithing. Omnius sees that the money goes where it is needed most. Tithing replaces taxes as you know them, and it is entirely voluntary. Inevitably, those with greater ranks and greater merit than you will both earn more and offer more in tithes.”
Atton blinked, shocked by these revelations. It did seem like the perfect system, but he was beginning to see why no one had ever implemented such a thing in the Imperium. It took an all-knowing, and incredibly intelligent entity to administer such a system effectively. Without which, there would be no way to accurately judge merit, and no way to properly reward it in order to incentivize the system. He made a guess about something else, and said, “Etheria uses a planned economy, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“So nothing is privately owned?”
“No, everything is privately owned, but technically Omnius is the real owner, and he can seize your assets or give someone else the job of administering them if he so chooses. Rest assured, however, seizures are very rare, and changes in administration are typically voluntary, occurring when the present owners and administrators move to a new type of job.”
“Then Omnius is not only your god and head of government, he rules over every area of your lives!”
“Right down to who we should court and marry, how we should treat them, and how we should share responsibilities within our homes. Omnius does not force us to listen to Him, but as an Etherian, you will find it expedient to do so, and to seek His will as often as you can. The more that you seek Him, the more He will help you to make the right choices for your lives.”
Atton heard his father grunt with disapproval.
“You have something on your mind, Ethan?” Master Rovik asked.
“Damn right I do. Omnius is controlling everything, forcing a square peg into a round hole to make us all well-behaved little bots. He’s making us extensions of him with no minds of our own! No wonder that little girl in the Null Zone called you guys Nons. Non-humans. You’re not humans, because you have an AI determining everything for you! Where’s the variety? The individuality?”
“Unlike in your culture, Ethan, individuality is not prized here. It is a
way of saying you don’t want to obey Omnius, and that is another way of asking to become a Null.”
“So what if I want to be an Etherian but I don’t want to follow the rules? Suppose I’m just stubborn, but I like what you’ve done with the place, so I don’t want to go down where I belong. What then? Omnius kicks me out?”
“If you repeatedly try to do harm to others, perhaps. If not, then you will simply never ascend. People will be able to see your rank and how long you have held it. From that they will know to stay away from you. You will become a social pariah, and your only escape will be to become a Null.”
“Nice, so I get treated like a freak because I’m different. That’s real benevolent of you guys.”
“It has nothing to do with being unfeeling. No doubt some will try to help you see the error of your ways. They will be rewarded if they succeed, but most will want to stay away to keep you from being a bad influence on them.”
Atton nodded along; it all made perfect sense to him. In fact, now that he understood better how life worked in Etheria, he was more determined than ever to make his choice. Where was the down side? Etheria promised a world with no poverty, no death, no disease, no suffering, no unemployment, no boredom, no unfairness, no crime . . . the list went on and on.
So why was his father so determined not to be a part of it? And what about Ceyla? Surely by now she could see enough parallels between life on Avilon and the after life the Etherians had preached about that she couldn’t deny it anymore. This was the Etheria that her codices described. Omnius was the benevolent god who was supposed to resurrect everyone after the apocalypse. That apocalypse had come with the Sythians, and life eternal was here.
“I have a question,” a new voice asked. The voice was soft and feminine, and Atton realized belatedly that it belonged to Ceyla. He turned to look behind him so he could make eye contact. Rather than sit with him on the bus, she’d opted to sit on the other side, a few rows back. She was obviously still angry with him.
Dark Space: Avilon Page 21