The man is almost at the door. Carrie's cries are now incoherent sobs.
It has always been the regular state of things. There is no clarity, no relief. At the end of all rationality there is simply the need to decide and the faith to live through, to endure.
Ruth's first shot slams into Carrie’s thigh. The bullet plunges through skin, muscle, and fat, and exits out the back, shattering the man’s knee.
The man screams and drops the scalpel. Carrie falls, a spray of blood blossoming from her wounded leg.
Ruth's second shot catches the man in the chest. He collapses to the floor.
Mom, mom!
She drops the gun and crawls over to Carrie, cradling her and tending to her wound. She’s crying, but she’ll be fine.
A deep pain floods through her like forgiveness, like hard rain after a long drought. She does not know if she will be granted relief, but she experiences this moment fully, and she’s thankful.
“It's okay,” she says, stroking Carrie as she lies in her lap. “It's okay.”
A Word from Ken Liu
The EchoSense technology described in this story is a loose and liberal extrapolation of the principles behind the technology described in the paper by Qifan Pu, Sidhant Gupta, Shyamnath Gollakota, and Shwetak Patel, “Whole-Home Gesture Recognition Using Wireless Signals,” The 19th Annual International Conference on Mobile Computing and Networking (Mobicom'13), available at http://wisee.cs.washington.edu/wisee_paper.pdf).
There is no intent to suggest that the technology described in the paper resembles the fictional one portrayed here.
Ken Liu has won the Nebula, Hugo, and World Fantasy Awards and been a finalist for the Sturgeon and the Locus Awards. His debut fantasy novel, The Grace of Kings, was published to critical acclaim in 2015.
A programmer as well as a lawyer, Ken has published stories in F&SF, Asimov's, Analog, Strange Horizons, Clarkesworld, and Lightspeed, among other places. Besides writing original fiction, he also translates fiction from Chinese into English.
He lives in Massachusetts with his wife and daughters. For more about him and his work, please visit http://kenliu.name.
Upgrade Complete
by Paul K. Swardstrom
MAGNEBALL
“THEY’RE ON TO US!”
“Bravo taking heavy fire.”
“Charlie on the move. F-Borgs had us locked down.”
“Copy. Get back to Rendezvous Point Echo. T minus ten minutes….”
…
..
.
Upgrade Complete.
My optical sensor array activated itself, ending neural sleep mode. I shook my head, letting the fog of sleep fade away.
I faintly remembered something on the edge of consciousness before I woke up. I struggled to hold on to it. Was it a dream, or something real?
I didn’t know the difference at the time.
My designation was JR-8 MT, a human-cyborg, a combatant in a tournament of cyborgs, and waking meant I had a match in minutes. I knew that this was not a good time to be dwelling on dreams or things partially remembered, but I was also desperate to find out anything about who I was.
I had no memory of my life before being a cyborg. My memory was less than a year old, and all of my existence so far had been dedicated to this tournament.
A beep told me I had ten minutes until the match would start. Ready or not, I had to go. I turned my attention to my recent system upgrade. I had opted for a speed boost this time around. A twelve percent upgrade in ambulatory power along with an upgrade in lateral quickness, both of which would be vital in this match.
I tested my new ability by power boosting around the prep room. I jumped, ran, and slid around the various leveled obstacles built into the walls in the room, using a bit of a flame boost from my boots, an attachment I only used in combat. I came to rest in front of the player console. I felt my human heart beating fast, a feeling both foreign and comforting. The full diagnostic that I ran during my little exercise came back with positive results. I was ready to go.
Before I signaled ready, I studied a map of the arena on my optical sensor array. The tournament floor was essentially a lunar surface littered with piles of construction debris. This round was going to be more interesting than my previous encounter, which had been held in a blank arena with some randomly interspersed walls.
I finished my review of the map, signaled ready, and waited. The announcement came soon enough.
“Player one, designated JR-8 MT. Your opponent is ready and the arena floor is ready. At the signal, you have two minutes to enter the arena floor.”
I stepped up to the entry hatch. Simultaneously, a red light lit up above me just as my optical sensor array displayed, Go!
I punched at the side of the hatch and it opened. Dashing through, I landed in a kneeling position next to a large boulder. My sensor display was active and scans showed no signs of my opponent.
Good. I was through first. I scanned the room for the other hatch where my opponent would come from.
There. Ten feet to my right, motion. The hatch opened, but nothing came through. I shifted a bit left to make sure the boulder was between myself and the opening hatch, waiting for someone—something to come through. Whatever it was waited inside the hatch, surveying the landscape from behind the hatch door.
There were two possible opponents—I’d received briefings on both. The first was a human who had lost all four of his own limbs and had them replaced by legs that resembled that of a canine. His jaw had also been enhanced and was his primary weapon. The other possible opponent was a human-based cyborg with lower extremities replaced by a giant rollerball.
Both possible opponents were highly mobile, hence my recent speed upgrade.
After several seconds of waiting, Magneball came out, heading away from me. I felt a sense of relief. Perhaps I hadn’t been detected.
I quietly picked up a nearby pipe, keeping my audio, visual, and 3-D motion detection systems active. A red flash appeared on the upper middle area of my optical sensor. Motion detected… too fast for a body. I prepared for incoming, then got a visual. Construction junk, all of it laced with metal materials in some form or fashion—some pieces of concrete with embedded rebar, some scraps of metal, some random screws, nails, and rivets.
I swung the pipe and caught the first of the chunks before it reached me, but there were more on the way. I boosted left before the next one could catch me. The debris fell in a scattered radius around my previous position, but I was already gone.
After boosting left, I curved right around a large pile of construction debris. The chunks of metal-laced debris followed me, spraying shrapnel everywhere as I accelerated forward. As I came around the pile I saw Magneball off to my right. He was levitating clusters of junk from a nearby mound and spinning them quickly around his body before releasing them toward his target. Lucky for me he hadn’t scored a major hit yet, just scraped me a little as some concrete chunks exploded behind me. Magneball’s targeting software was definitely struggling to keep up with me, a quickly moving target.
I accelerated toward another debris pile, keeping Magneball on my right. I think that’s about when he realized the flying shrapnel strategy was not working. As I continued, the barrage stopped and Magneball took up the chase. When I rounded the corner I lost sight of him, which I hoped meant that he couldn’t see me either. I quickly activated six devices in my thigh compartments and sent them spinning off in different directions. They would confuse Magneball’s 3-D sensors just long enough. I shifted my weight laterally to the right and pushed myself up the large pile of debris next to me.
I came down the other side in time to catch Magneball by surprise, a difficult thing to do considering the technology involved. As I boosted down the hill of debris, I jammed the pipe in between Magneball’s torso and the ball below it. The boost was enough to leverage the torso right off the ball as I flipped over the top of my opponent with powered rotational speed.
/> I landed, my mechanized legs absorbing the impact in a skid across the lunar floor. I felt the magnetic pull almost immediately. Magneball, minus the ball, was pulling me back toward him. I resisted just long enough to do a scan. There, just under the torso and above the ball socket, were two interconnected coils that powered the magnets that Magneball was employing.
I needed to disable the magnetic coils before they had a hand in disabling me. Unfortunately the part I needed to disable was on the other side of the figure before me. I keyed a recall signal and boosted in the direction of the magnetic pull. Reaching out my hands, a remote device landed in each one. The boost was just enough to push me a bit beyond Magneball before the pull started to bring me back. I could feel my faceplate beginning to peel up. With some difficulty, I thumbed a small switch on each of my devices and let them go with a little toss. It would be enough.
Each device landed on the carapace just above one of the coils and disintegrated on impact, taking out five centimeters of non-organic material on each side. Just like that, the battle was over. Magneball was defenseless.
“Aaaah!” came the cry from the defeated Magneball. “That’s going to knock me back a bracket. I can’t afford to fix that damage on my own!” He slammed the floor with his hand in frustration.
I stood up and dusted myself off. “I’m sorry about that, but I did what I had to do,” I said. I walked over to look down at Magneball. “Do you yield?”
“Yes! Yes! I yield. Get me outta here!” The defeated cyborg paused as he looked up at me. “Jarhead?” Abruptly, all his indicators went dark, and the one human eye rolled as he passed out.
What the...
There was no way I did anything to make this cyborg pass out or shut down. It made me wonder. What had just happened? Was someone trying to keep something from me? Jarhead? Was that it? What did that mean? I stored the thought away for later.
I heard the standard celebration sounds—was that stuff music?—so I looked up to the in-game display. There were four stars out of eight, indicating a slightly favorable rating. I would be paid enough to keep upgrading, but my ratings continued to be relatively low. I wanted to thank Magneball for the shred of hope, but instead I said, “Good match.” The cyborg remained prone on the floor.
My part done, I shrugged and headed for the door.
* * *
The Ravagers came to Earth in 2023. It wasn’t an alien invasion or even an occupation. They just came and played the part of uninvited house guests.
The Ravagers were not just one group of aliens, but many—of all shapes, sizes, origins, preferred climates, preferred diets, you name it. For years, Earthmen did not know why they came and why they stayed, but they were definitely a problem to be dealt with.
Most of them did not recognize any form of Earth government, and if they could get away with it, did whatever they damn well pleased. Several groups formed colonies in some of the more remote habitats of the planet: Northern Alaska, the heart of the Amazon Jungle, the Sahara, the Australian Outback, the Himalayas, buried in the ice in the Antarctic. Then there was the creation of an archipelago in the South Pacific, outposts at ocean bottoms, and more.
Several more placed their outposts in more accessible areas such as the ones in Kansas, Stonehenge, Korea, and Argentina.
If the Ravagers occupied someone’s territory or took over someone’s farm, well, the offended party didn’t have much recourse. They could complain to the authorities, but more often than not the authorities couldn’t do anything about it either.
There was no central authority, no governing body. It was a loosely banded group of interstellar criminals, misfits, refugees and the like. One theory was that they were here in the Solar System because they had all worn out their welcome elsewhere.
Some government bodies tried to do something about the Ravagers, either independently or by banding together. All met with failure in one form or another. The Ravagers had seen far worse treatment with greater technology before they ever reached Earth. Whatever the Earth authorities tried to put together to address the problem did not seem to faze the Ravagers one bit. One country, known for its despotic rule of its people, tried to set off an atomic bomb by one of the Ravager facilities. The bomb failed to detonate and was returned to sender with a bang. Soon afterward, the people of Earth discovered that their atomic capability had been reduced to power plants and naval propulsion.
The one thing that held the Ravagers together? A tournament. For every tournament, every Ravager member race sent one or two of their best cyborgs, and it was winner take all.
* * *
The robots finished their work repairing the damage, this time mostly confined to the damaged faceplate, and I was free to go back to my quarters. While the faceplate was being repaired I tried to get a look at what was underneath in a reflection, but it was a fleeting look at an intensely scarred visage. I was strapped down at the time for no other apparent reason than to keep me from being curious.
Outside the workshop, my chaperone was waiting. He followed me everywhere outside of my apartment. I had some rules to follow and his constant presence was there to remind me to stay in the lines. Believe me, his presence was enough of a reminder. He looked like the result of a three-way between a grizzly bear, a walrus, and a boulder. I called him Graaarg.
Conversation with Graaarg was riveting.
“Good morning.”
“Graaarg.”
“Did you sleep well last night?”
“Graaarg.”
“And how is Mrs. Graaarg doing today?”
“Graaarg.”
You get the idea. He’s there because he’s a big lump of nasty that I would never want to meet in a dark alley. Even with all of my enhancements he could still take me on in a wrestling match and win, but he didn’t have to. He had my off switch.
Graaarg was all mine in the daytime shift. At night, I had his cousin Gwoaarg. He wasn’t as good at conversation as Graaarg. Other Rock Bears switched in at various times for relief, but it was pretty hard to keep track of their names.
Outside my quarters, I keyed entry and stepped inside. I waved at Graaarg as he took his position next to the door. “Have a good afternoon.”
“Graaarg.”
Somehow I knew he was going to say that.
“Welcome home, JR-8,” the apartment computer’s voice said aloud as I came in.
“Thanks, Wanda.” I went to get cleaned up in a restroom specially built for my needs.
I stripped off the armor that covered my humanity, stepped into the shower, and washed the flesh by hand. I longed for the feeling of hot water coursing down my back, but I had to take some precautions if I wanted to do that and I wasn’t in the mood to bother with all the coverings right then.
Toweling off, I stood in front of the mirror. Both legs were mechanized, integrating with flesh just below the hip. The torso was partially covered on the right side but overall was still mostly human. My right lung had been replaced with an air processing filter, a localized power plant, and the integration control that constantly monitored the connection between flesh and machine. The right arm was mechanized from the shoulder down, but the left arm was still the original.
Internally, I still had the original heart, one lung, my kidneys. Yes, I could still have children, if you were wondering, and yes, the old fashioned way. My brain... well, the original was still there, but they had filled in some gaps to enable certain enhancements. I’ll get back to that later.
The faceplate covered most of my face from my crown to jawline on the right side, while only covering the ear on the left side. I still had my left eye under the faceplate, but the right eye had been replaced by the optical sensor. The faceplate covered my face in such a way that it removed all expression and ability to recognize the man underneath — except that somebody had.
“Wanda,” I called to the computer. I went to get dressed.
“Yes, Master. What is your wish?”
My house comput
er did not act normal. I had long ago learned to ignore it.
“Research Jarhead. Meanings and possible personal references.” I pulled out some jeans from the drawer.
“Jarhead refers to a member of the U.S. Marines. It is a slang term, originally referring to a haircut style.”
“Wanda, today somebody called me Jarhead.”
“That is interesting, JR-8. Shall I call you Jarhead as well?”
I shook my head as I pulled a shirt over it. “No. I want to know why a person would have called me that.”
“All information about your prior self is restricted, JR-8,” Wanda replied. “You know that.”
“Can you tell me about Magneball’s past?” I opened a new package of socks for my mechanical feet. I didn’t know why I bothered. These feet certainly didn’t get cold. And I went through a pair of socks every day.
“Magneball’s personal information is restricted as well.”
“Argh!” I threw the package of socks across the room. They hit the wall with a very unsatisfying whuff. The conversation had hit a dead end. “What can you tell me?”
“You are cyborg, part human, part machine. You have been active on Moon Base Tycho for five months. You have been participating in the tournament for four of those months with a record of fifteen and one after your most recent victory. You—”
“Stop.” This was going nowhere. Again. I went to the kitchen and poured myself a bowl of cereal. I was not going to get anything out of Wanda. I tried to put it out of my mind.
“Show me the next possible opponents.”
The holographic display lit up over the table. Fang, the wolf-like human cyborg had made it through his round, but was not listed as a possible option this time. Instead, a modified Triboboculus, known by humans as OctoBob (due to a vague resemblance to an octopus), and an insectoid mantis-like cyborg were the two options. It was time for a power upgrade.
The Cyborg Chronicles (The Future Chronicles) Page 7