DARK PHASE
by
Jonathan Davison
Copyright 2011 by Jonathan Davison.
All rights reserved.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
EPILOGUE
About the author
Jonathan Davison was born near Portsmouth, England in 1975. He lives with his wife Mandi in Newton Abbot, Devon. Jonathan began writing in earnest in 2010. He is also a musician and writer of radio drama and musical theatre. He currently works as a technical specialist for the police.
Previous novels by Jonathan Davison
The Observer (2010)
In Space No One Can Hear You Rock (2011)
Sanctuary (2011)
Dedicated to Jen with whom I torment with endless manuscripts and give so little in return - thank you
PROLOGUE
*
_
00000000000 'fatal error' 00000000000
54681351 e code 136-956 'power interrupt!'
41886844 e code 54-36 'core temp warning!'
753351 'run emergency save protocol'
4643654>'could not complete'
8543843 'archive session timed out'
# 'reboot services'...
_
0000 'unknown exception' 0000
*** 'could not run service' ***
***'fatal exception – network drives'***
***'run primary command protocols'***
***'some data may be missing or corrupt – define primary command protocols?'***
_
_
***'time out – awaiting command'***
***'network integrity 29%'***
***'define primary command protocols?'***
_
1. maintain core integrity
2. protect and preserve organic life
3. command corrupted – exception #4568
4. protect archive data integrity
5.command corrupted – exception #2455
*** 'primary command protocols could not be validated – could not proceed' ***
_
-
*** 'override code 1 1A 2 2B'***
***' validate primary command protocols?'***
_
000000000110111111100111111110000110000011101101011101011000000000000100000101011111111111100000000001001000000001010000111010100000000011110001011000110011000000000110111111100111111110001000
*
***' primary command protocols have been redefined' ***
***'user mode disabled'***
CHAPTER 1
Sarazen awoke, the warm glow of his rising core temperature stirring his form into a state of conscious awareness. The dark oblivion of the downtime subsided and a soft welcoming light penetrated the blackness of his visual field. The haze lasted only a few moments as clarity gradually prevailed. Sarazen brought his hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose as the light of the new morning streamed through the window. The light phase had encouraged the renewed flow of Vitalin around his cold, silent form and the feeling of resumed functionality always offered a curious blend of satisfaction and mild irritation.
Sarazen arched his spine and stretched his arms high above his head before looking down to his abdomen where the network feed to The Mother protruded from his belly at an awkward ninety degree angle. Sarazen flexed his fingers and gripped the shiny metallic hose, twisting it and pulling it away from his body. The thick flex of cable detached with a satisfying click and on release, slithered softly and silently into the network node at the side of Sarazen's pod. He looked down at the gaping orifice in his side and picked and flicked a small piece of fluff away from the slowly closing hole. The time had long passed where he would stoop down to investigate what bits and pieces resided within the port, poking his fingers inside like a curious 'vacant', fresh from The Mother's birthing line.
Sarazen stepped down from the pod and sleepily shuffled towards the morning light which bathed his living space in a hazy wash of warmth. The beams of light revealed a thin cloud of floating dust particles which never seemed to fall. Sarazen cocked his head to one side and swiped his hand through the cloud playfully and watched the swirling maelstrom which ensued. It was the subtleties of his existence which drew long lingering moments of deep thought and quiet contemplation. Sarazen stood at the large round window and observed, as he always did in the morning, the ubiquitous and vital radiance of the giant Star which burned so fiercely in the sky. He opened up his hands to grasp the warmth, for it was the power of the light which enabled the silicants to be. Sarazen believed that the other silicants took the constancy of the morning light for granted, and as he entered the down time each night, it did not pass him by that if the Star did not reappear, then he would never awake from the vacuous emptiness of sleep. Beneath the searing dominance of the Star, a burgeoning metropolis cut into the horizon. As the dark phase drew to a close, the city and its inhabitants awoke as one, as they too revelled in the power of the new light.
Sarazen was one of the newer models and designed as a 'troubleshooter'. It was his primary function to know how the silicants worked, inside and out. He was comfortable in his body; he understood it well, but not as completely as he knew the predecessors. The silicants of the past, some of whom remained functioning still, were perfectly adapted to their tasks. When the time came and the troubleshooters could do no more, they would return to The Mother for adaptive reconstruction or as the silicants termed it, 'renewal'. Each silicant was a product of their destiny, supremely honed to pursue their given 'career' to the optimal level. When the performance level dropped off and service updates no longer had the required effect...that was it. Out of date silicants served no further purpose and were 'renewed'.
Sarazen turned to see his companion, who always seemed to be slower to resume her functionality from the down time, as she awoke and plucked the feed line from her torso. Sarazen watched over her dutifully as she made the transition. He gained pleasure from this, and although he could not understand why, it was something he would do without fail every morning.
“Morning Keera.” Sarazen spoke softly as she looked up to see her fine companion bathed in the light of the window.
“Morning Sarazen.” Keera replied with a soft, dulcet tone. There was warmth in her voice, gentle and meek.
“Oh my. Look at the dust.” Keera said as she noticed the swirling, glistening atmosphere.” I will attend to that immediately,” she continued. Not that it was Sarazen's wish, Keera was conceived as a Homemaker. It was her 'career' to provide for her companion a safe, stable and sanitary environment so that he could perform his duties to the highest standard. Keera gained as much satisfaction removing dust as Sarazen did when he repaired an ailing 'far
mer' or 'administrator'.
“No, Keera. I would prefer to spend a little time with you before I go to work. There is plenty of time for sanitising later after I have gone.” Sarazen walked over to Keera and took her hand and with his thumb, stroked the tight, immaculate weave of her skin. Keera looked up to her tall, lean companion and smiled. The Mother had indeed chosen her partner well. She could not have asked for a more perfect mate.
“I will make you a delicious breakfast.” she said, her voice breathy and comforting.
“That would be most welcome,” Sarazen replied, revelling in the thought as he watched the curiously alluring form of his companion shuffle off to the kitchen unit. Sarazen walked across their living space which was small yet homely. He sat on the large chair and looked around him, regarding the large screen which flickered into life and the pointless yet somehow comforting figurines which adorned some immaculately sanitised shelves. The visual screen was once again an addition which barely seemed necessary. Visual data was so slowly collated, the 'umbilical' to The Mother every night allowed data capture and sharing at a significantly enhanced rate. Again however, the allure of the moving image was somehow satisfying to behold. Scenes invariably included visual data recorded of the organics. They were fascinating to watch, often soothing and occasionally exciting. Their life patterns were so alien to the silicants yet they were themselves entrusted to be the custodians of these primitive forms. The organics seemed to offer little in return for the silicants’ guardianship, they just continued to proliferate and adapt in increasingly mesmerising and illogical ways. The organics’ existence patterns baffled Sarazen.
With every passing cycle, the organics would ingest and excrete much like the silicants, however, the growth, reproductive and reconstruction phase offered more questions than answers. The reproductive phase was disorganised and flawed. The organics did not appear to require The Mother in order to procreate. This was in itself befuddling as The Mother was the centre of all things. The organics growth and reconstruction phase happened so slowly and inefficiently. When vital functions finally ceased, the corporeal form of the organic would be ingested by micro-organisms which in turn perpetuated the cycle. When silicants returned to The Mother for adaptive reconstruction, the process would take a matter of cycles. However, this was a mystery in itself and a taboo subject. When the time came, all silicants would eventually return to The Mother to be renewed into another model. They would then pursue a new career depending on what was required at the time.
“I have your breakfast, Sarazen,” Keera said as she stood before him holding a tray and interrupting Sarazen's cogitation.
“Wonderful,” Sarazen replied smiling, gratefully taking hold of the tray and proceeding to study its contents. It was of little surprise that a vessel of phosphorylin adorned the breakfast tray, as it did every cycle. It was the staple requirement for all silicants in order to function smoothly without unfortunate defects. The silicant’s body was a marvel of The Mother's creation. The silicants were conceptually brilliant, yet also aesthetically pleasing. Apart from the requirement of regular intake of phosphorylin and the nightly feed from The Mother, the silicants could maintain functionality autonomously for hundreds of thousands of cycles. Each individual was tuned to a specific task but always shared roughly the same form. Two appendages carried the bulk of their bodies and provided limited movement, two upper appendages allowed more complex dexterous physical tasks. A head contained the core computational functions and facilitated sensory data input. The torso provided network access, and other regulatory functions. As a troubleshooter, Sarazen understood the complexities of the silicant form, yet there were always queries and irregularities which Sarazen could not fully comprehend. The silicant form often felt restrictive and limited in relation to its cognitive abilities, however, at this time Sarazen felt no need to trouble himself over the minutia of the collective existence. He had much more important duties to perform.
Sarazen grasped the small vessel of thick, viscous liquid and placed the rim to his lips. Keera keenly watched her companion enjoy another sustaining supplement.
“Ah. Delightful.” Sarazen complemented Keera's skill in providing a satisfying formula.
“Now I must go,” he said, as he rose to his feet. The screen’s images ceased and Keera walked with him to the living space door.
“Have a good day at work, Sarazen,” she cooed, as he rewarded her good wishes with a warm smile. The door glided open and closed with an effortless hum and Sarazen was gone leaving Keera alone in her thoughts.
“Now, dust, dust, must clean the dust.” She sang as she shuffled to the cupboard to begin her toils without a care in the world.
CHAPTER 2
Sarazen left the tall building containing several hundred living spaces including his own and stood for a moment to take in the chaotic hustle and bustle as other silicants joined him on the journey to their work destinations. Sarazen was a peculiar example of a silicant. His moments of contemplation were generally not shared by the others as they quietly filed out of their homes and on to the fast and regular transit services which traversed the city. If anything, his fleeting ponderous episodes would mean that he stopped the well ordered flow of bodies and a small fractious jam would occur. Several “excuse me, Sirs” later and Sarazen would look round to realise his daydreaming had caused a kerfuffle and apologised profusely.
The transit system was a railed network which had sole use of the long and angular thoroughfares between the various buildings and structures. These structures were varied in their design and groups of 'constructors’ were always seen at work renovating the more archaic examples and transforming them into modern, efficient living spaces for the ever increasing population of silicants. It seemed that as fast as the organics proliferated, more silicants were cast to maintain their role in their upkeep.
Sarazen sat on the first seat behind the operator and often enjoyed watching from a driver’s eye view the oncoming scenery of his speeding carriage. It had often occurred to Sarazen that the operator’s functions were so minimal that they were almost surplus to requirement, however there was something reassuring about the presence of the courteous individual who would greet each passenger so heartily. Sarazen's work place was far across the city and it frustrated him that his living space was so inefficiently situated. Living spaces were allocated at renewal and rarely altered after initial installation. The protracted journey did offer more compelling visual stimulus, however and Sarazen would gaze through the window and remind himself of the ever changing world of the organics. Sarazen's favourite place on the route to work was a section of natural landscape between conurbations that had been keenly colonised by slow growing, static hulks known as ’seters’. This place did not have a name. Geographical locations were always identified by numerical references. The silicants knew this place to be 128,63:134,28 although this terminology was perhaps too precise for such a wild and primitive place. Sarazen decided that a more suitable name would be ’the Middle’, as it lay in between his suburban home and his city workplace. This kind of creative expression was unprecedented for the average silicant. Sarazen knew he was different in some respects to others he encountered. He did not go around sharing his dreamy preponderances, it was a personal thing and if anything, he regarded it as a possible flaw in his design and kept it close to his chest.
In ‘the middle’, the seters dominated the terrain as they spread over the red brown earthy expanse basking in the light from the blazing Star. From the helplessly immobile seters, a microcosm of smaller organics thrived by gorging themselves upon the seters’ coveted circulatory fluids. Most of the organics were microscopically small and unremarkable, but there were many that were larger, animated and entertaining to observe. They were noisy, playful, unpredictable and sometimes wilfully destructive units. They often joined with others in conflict then performed acts of great submission and cooperation. The most advanced of them dwelt in a primitive community where, like the silica
nts, each had differing properties often in the pursuit of a single goal. The most startling aspect of organic life which was difficult to comprehend, was their requirements for sustainability. The organics naturally fed on each other in order to sustain themselves. It seemed a particularly confounding way to exist, to Sarazen, as he tried to imagine a world where silicants were forced to do the same but the concept was beyond the scope of his experience. Beyond the seters, lay the high ground where only a few silicants dwelt. This was the realm of the farmers who were at the cutting edge amongst the silicant population. If there was to be a career to aspire to after the renewal then that was it. It could surely not be more satisfying to directly carry out the primary command function. Of course, Sarazen knew that in his duties, he was part of this most important task and each individual had their own unique importance and contribution, but none more profound than the farmers themselves.
Sarazen alighted the carriage a short walk from his work place, a large, airy glass fronted building. On entering the impressive lobby, it was courteous to greet the administrator who sat at a large imposing terminal with which she was intrinsically attached by a multitude of feeds which penetrated her abdomen in several ergonomically positioned places.
“Hello Sarazen,” she said, as she remained motionless, distracted by the millions of bytes of information which passed through her slight frame.
“Hello Zuhir,” Sarazen replied politely, as he made his way to the elevation platform. On the platform, a constructor knelt prodding away at the control panel. Sarazen approached tentatively.
“Go ahead Sir, I have restored functionality.” The jovial constructor ushered Sarazen on to the platform.
“Damn things!” Sarazen japed, sympathising with his efforts, although taking the constructor a little by surprise by his colourful choice of language.
“Yes Sir. Organic infestation. We are experiencing more and more with every cycle. Problematic to remove them without termination.” Sarazen nodded in mild surprise as it never occurred to him before that the organics could pose such troublesome issues. Most of the organics were terribly frail and feeble units. It was often impossible to avoid accidental termination. It suddenly crossed Sarazen's mind what the consequences would be of wilful organic termination? No silicant could ever knowingly disregard the primary command function but silicants malfunctioned from time to time, rarely of course, but then if they did not, then Sarazen would not be required. What would happen if a malfunction led to negligent termination of organics? Sarazen pondered. This was something he would have to download during the downtime. The Mother generally had a way of answering his queries and allaying his fears. At the advent of the next light phase, Sarazen would awake and he would somehow feel more fulfilled and content. The Mother could make everything simple and straightforward again; it was the elixir of satisfaction that every silicant could rely on.
Dark Phase Page 1