Analog Science Fiction and Fact - 2014-04

by Penny Publications

  "Kenani's job," he said with a nod. "To keep things from changing."

  "Nothing new. And nothing to look forward to. In other words, nothing to hope for."

  "Ah." He reached out to touch the locket. He understood its shape now: a miniature tree inside an acorn. "But if that's not what you believe..."

  "I wear this to remind myself that I don't believe it. I look at time a different way. It's physics-based. See, when the Universe was emerging from the primordial fireball—"

  "It's not every conversation," he interrupted, "where you get to use the words 'primordial fireball.'"

  "Oh, be quiet. As the, the Bang, cooled, things began to crystallize out of it. Quarks and leptons, electrons and protons. They weren't there before and never had been — and then they were. Before they existed, they couldn't exist, they were impossible. They weren't stored somewhere in some kind of seed-form before the Bang. They were impossible, and then they were there.

  "Same thing with life," she said. "Before life existed, how could some observer from outside the Universe have seen it coming? It wasn't one of those things that matter did— until suddenly it was doing it. And then, consciousness played the same trick on life...

  "The point is," she said, gently taking his fingers off her locket, "time isn't the working out of a predesigned destiny. Time is the possibility of surprise."

  Toby had a sudden startled image of the two types of time: one that pushed, with all the terrible weight of the iron-bound laws of history behind it—and one that pulled you forward into a future of limitless possibilities. "So what does believing in surprise get you?" he mused, looking up at again at the stars.

  "What do you think, silly? It gives us the one thing that the oak in the acorn never can:

  "Hope."

  Together, they drifted through a landscape empty of any of the agendas of human civilization. In the tangled brushlands, along the edges of overgrown roads, and under the canopies of untended trees, they met instead countless beings busy with the tending of their own lives: hurrying bees, chirping beetles, lazily waving rushes in the shallow waters. The frequent lurid changes in color that washed the sky didn't affect these creatures, who'd adapted and moved on. In time, Toby got used to it too, only occasionally reflecting on the unimaginable power hinted at by the laser sunlight.

  He and Corva moved from place to place, keeping as many steps ahead of Evayne's searchers as they could. They would curl up on cold concrete in front of some randomly chosen house's hibernaculum, and sleep for weeks or months at a time. When they emerged, the lawns would be more overgrown, the plastic wrapping of the houses a little more frayed, and the internet news services full of automatically-generated alerts and bot-authored reports of Evayne's activities.

  After resting up and getting their bearings, they would set out for the next safe position from which to prod Toby's sister into wasting her energies.

  It was among the towers of the capital that Toby's plan fell apart.

  They'd come here because both of them were tired of the wilderness. Toby's straggly new beard was filling out, and with no bots to give them a proper haircut, both had hacked-up page-boy cuts. They'd stolen clothes as they went; but under them they were flea-bitten, darkly tanned, and covered in little scars from brambles and broken branches. It was just a matter of time before one of them broke a leg, or developed a major infection too far from a cicada bed. So, they'd infiltrated the shrink-wrapped towers near Corva's home, where the bot count was higher, but there were also more places to hide. For the turn of a few weeks, and a winter-over of nearly a year, they enjoyed the fabulous luxuries of houses and condominiums whose inhabitants slept like fairy tale princes and princes, just meters away.

  Then one evening as they were crossing a plaza on their way to their latest nest, Toby heard a faint sound above the chirping and buzzing of the insects. He stopped walking and put a hand on Corva's arm. "Wait."

  The denners had heard it too: a kind of quiet ripping sound, coming from nowhere and everywhere at once.

  Toby shouted a curse and began to run, as sleek silvery aircraft suddenly wove between the towers ringing the plaza. They shot past and disappeared, and Toby and Corva managed to make it to the overhang of a sealed subway station. Corva crouched down, watching the sky. "Did they see us?"

  "I don't think so."

  She cautiously stepped out from under the overhang. "Maybe they were on their way somewhere else." But she ducked down again as four more craft soared overhead. These were bigger: troop transports from the look of them.

  Toby's heart sank. "They're doing a spot check. And we're going to show up like bonfires in their thermal cameras. We're the biggest life forms in the city."

  "We make for the outskirts," she said, "or maybe hide in the subway. If we deep dive there—"

  He shook his head. "There's no refrigeration in the tunnels. We'll be eaten by centipedes."

  "Then what—"

  Toby had fished his glasses out of his backpack, but when he put them on he growled.

  "No signal here. We need to get into one of those residential towers. Once I'm on the net, I can wake up the city."

  She leaned out, searching the skies. "I think we're safe for now. We'd better run for it." The sound of jet engines echoed off the buildings; it sounded like the big transports were landing.

  They were about to sprint for the nearest residence when Corva grabbed Toby's arm. "Wait—wake how much of the city?"

  "Corva, the instant I start any beds, Evayne is going to know I'm here. Our only chance now lies in numbers.

  "We're going to wake everybody."

  19

  The first stirrings were in the form of lights. As night fell, small pinpricks lit the darkness, high up in the towers and scattered along the roadways where there had been none before. Above them, the soaring shapes of aircars and flying bots—busy hunters—eclipsed the stars. It was a curiously slow and anticlimactic event, if you didn't know what you were looking at.

  Toby and Corva watched the slow rousing of the city through the glass outer wall of an empty condominium, high up on its seventieth floor. Even from this height, Toby didn't feel they were safe, so they didn't go near that window, but instead viewed the city through the crack of a doorway to an inner room. They kept the lights off, and once or twice hovering shapes drifted past outside, dangerously close, and they crouched behind the place's (active, but empty) cicada beds. Hopefully these would block their bio-signals.

  Evening turned into night, night into morning: the city awoke slowly. By the time the random rainbow of dawn painted the eastern horizon, there were lights on in nearly all the towers. Traffic—mostly bots—was running in the streets below in increasingly strong pulses.

  Feeling a bit safer now, Toby ventured to the glass wall to look down. It was only when he spotted the first human forms emerging from neighboring towers that he finally felt safe enough to sleep for a while.

  "Let them try to sort this out," he said as they lay down on the carpet between the beds. "Once the crowds reach their max, we can slip through their lines and go into stasis in a house they've already searched."

  Corva nodded. "They'll know the beds aren't being used, but as long as it's cold..." House insulation around the hibernation core was very good; with the denners, they should be able to deep dive safely for a month or two even in one that had had its power shut off.

  He wrapped his arms around her and murmured, "Safe," into her ear. They kept their clothes on and their packs ready at hand, though, as they drifted off to the faint sounds of a city waking.

  Toby awoke coughing. Something abrasive—an awful chemical odor—was in the air. He sat up blinking; on the other side of the room Orpheus and Wrecks were scrabbling frantically at the door.

  "What's happening?" Corva levered herself onto her hands and knees, and at that moment the room shook to an ear-piercing alarm. "Fire, fire," said an impersonal voice from some hidden speaker. "Please evacuate the building through the
stairwells. Move in an orderly fashion to your designated assembly point in the—" The voice suddenly cut out.

  Toby had thrown open the door. In a glance he took in the fact that it was evening again— a perfectly blue one tonight—and the fact that a swarm of black somethings was dipping and diving around the tower. Still coughing, he went up to the transparent outer wall, but jumped back as one of the things shot past only a meter or so beyond the glass.

  "They've cut the power," Corva called hoarsely. "We can't stay here."

  "It's no fire," he said, gathering up a frantic Orpheus and grabbing the strap of his backpack. "They're pumping something through the air system."

  "Easier than—" she paused to cough, "—go door to door themselves."

  Efficient. Not like the Evayne he'd watched grow up, but just like the Evayne she'd become in his absence.

  The corridor outside was filling with anxious people—men, women, children, and pets, including other denners. Many of these people had no idea they'd been awoken outof-turn and some stopped, blocking the way while their neighbors attempted confused explanation. Even those who'd checked the net and knew that the city was waking alone, didn't know why. There was no mention of Toby McGonigal; the government had hidden the truth of the situation well. As they moved down the stairwell, Toby did hear the name Evayne spoken, first just once, then over and over again. The rumors that she was coming to punish Thisbe again had been impossible to suppress in the days leading up to their last sleep—not with all the civil defense forces being put on alert.

  They were afraid, and the fear was contagious. By the time they spilled out into a grass-tangled lot behind the building, Toby had become just another mote in a swirling stream of panicked people. They passed shreds of plastic sheeting that had wrapped the exit, catching fractured glimpses of people darting to and fro under a swooping flock of black things, and then spotlights came on and blinded him.

  "MOVE AS FAR AS YOU CAN INTO THE PLAZA," roared a bot voice. People stumbled and fell; kids were crying. Toby reached for Corva and put his arm across her shoulder to keep her close. Unable to see clearly, buffeted by others, they made their way toward a line of tall shapes half-visible behind the spotlights.

  "Mechs, Toby." Corva pulled back.

  "Doesn't matter how close we are," he said. "They'll see us. And hear us—" He stopped talking. If Evayne had recorded his conversation with her—as she surely must have—then she would have his facial and voice biocrypto fed into all her bots. He had to hope his longer, lank hair, sunburnt features and new beard would confuse them. But his voice... Corva looked up at him, and he just shook his head.

  "Where are the defense forces?" somebody shouted.

  "They'll be here! Give them a chance."

  They would, Toby knew; he'd awoken them too. There'd be some resistance, somewhere—but not right here, right now, and that was all that counted.

  He'd lost. He couldn't say it, couldn't speak his fear; but his grip on Corva tightened as they staggered to a stop near the ranked forms of the military bots that ringed the lot.

  These weren't McGonigal bots, but some standard military model. Evayne wouldn't make the obvious mistake. Ditto for the halfmeter sized quadcopters that flocked overhead. None would obey his commands.

  Halen had been right. Better that he should have hidden behind an army of coopted Mc-Gonigal bots, and an even bigger force of fanatical Toby-worshipers. He imagined the sky dark with his own ships, Evayne's forces on the run, and an unstoppable militia flying his banners behind him as he stepped onto the soil of Destrier. That whole world would fall on its knees before him. They'd been waiting, after all, since the dawn of time. With Evayne helpless, he could have strode to their mother's strange resting place and put his hand on the lock there, the one that only he in all the Universe could open.

  These... things, that his brother and sister had turned into—they'd be on the run then. He was never going to get his Peter back, nor his Evayne. But at least he could have driven those dark changelings out of the Universe. He could have set things right, as he was supposed to. Now, he'd never get the chance.

  "WOMEN AND CHILDREN TO THE GREEN AREA!" Laser light described a square near the building.

  "Why are they separating us?" "What's going on?"

  "We're not going to harm anyone!" It was a new voice, not the mechanical claxon-sound of the military bots, but a human man. He stepped out from between the milbots, one of Evayne's senior officers in a black and silver uniform.

  "We're searching the city for a criminal!" he went on, raising one hand to try to still the cries of outrage and fear coming from the crowd. "If you're not him, you can go home. I'm just going to split off the obvious noncandidates to get this over with as quickly as possible!"

  Slightly emboldened, some of the men pressed forward. "You have no right to do this!" one shouted. "The lockstep laws—"

  Three milbots stepped towards him, the thud of their footsteps reverberating through the ground. "You don't seem to understand," said the officer.

  "Nobody will be hurt if nobody resists."

  Some of the men looked ready to fight despite their fear. A terrible feeling of helplessness was building in Toby's throat. Barely aware he was doing it, he took a step forward.

  Corva pulled him back. "What are you doing?" she hissed in his ear.

  "I can't let them be hurt for no reason—"

  "Stop it!" She hauled at his arm.

  But the moment had passed. The men who were thinking of resisting now found themselves washed with air from a dozen or more drones that hovered just above their heads. None of them could have taken a step without being knocked down, either lethally or by one or another stun techniques.

  "Women and children into the square, please," the officer repeated. Reluctantly, the crowd began to dissolve into two parts.

  Toby took his arm away from Corva's shoulder and gently shoved her after the other women. "Take Orph, will you?"

  "No—Toby—"

  "It's fine. I'll just be a minute." He disentangled Orpheus from his shoulder, and handed the denner to Corva. Orpheus struggled, chittering anxiously.

  "Go!" He stepped away from them. Corva backed away, then turned and fled through the maze of grim men, into darkness.

  Abstractly, Toby noticed that lights like these spotlights were shining around other nearby buildings. This same drama was being played out throughout the neighborhood.

  The officer began walking along the front of the crowd of men, a bot about his own size striding with him. This one flicked a light into the face of each man as they passed. "No," said the bot, and the officer would pull the man forward and point him at the other crowd, the one with the women and children. "No, no, no, no..."

  With terrifying speed, they peeled back the front lines of the crowd, getting closer and closer to Toby. He knew they'd find him; why not just step forward and get it over with? But he couldn't move.

  "Orpheus!"

  Corva's voice jolted him out of his paralysis. Toby whirled, saw her standing with the other women, a hand at her neck. Orpheus must have bitten her, because here he came, bounding through the tall grass that separated the two groups.

  Toby took a step toward him. "No! Get back—"

  Lightning flashed from one of the swooping black drones and Orpheus wasn't running but tumbling, once, twice, then flopping utterly still in the dark grass.

  "No!" Toby ran to him, or tried, but suddenly a milbot loomed in front of him and a metal hand rammed him in the chest. His breath knocked out of him, Toby sat down hard.

  The officer strolled over and tilted his head, frowning. "I'm so sorry," he said. "Your denner?" He crouched in front of Toby, peering into his face. "No, I don't think..."

  His bot had come up behind him and now it bent down too, flicking its light in Toby's face. Toby had just a moment to look past it to where Corva stood stricken with the others, Wrecks crouched at her feet with his hackles raised; then the officer's bot said,

>   "Yes."

  The flight of emotions across the officer's face would have been hilarious at any other time: disbelief, panic, triumph all battled it out in the few seconds that he crouched frozen in front of Toby. Then he reached out quickly; Toby flinched, but he was offering his hand.

  "I'm so sorry, sir. Can you come with me please?"

  Toby ignored the offer of help. He wanted to turn and look, see if Orpheus was okay and if they'd realized that Corva was with him— but anything he did, a flicker of the eyes, a half-turn in that direction—might alert the watchful bots. If they'd been recording everything then there was nothing he could do anyway; but if not...

  "Yes," he said. "I'm coming," and he stood and resolutely walked away from Corva, and the dear friend who lay so unmoving in the grass.

  The officer was talking excitedly, doubtless advising the other search units that they could stop their sweeps. The milbots broke ranks, milling about for a moment then falling into formation around Toby and the other human. Black shapes swooped and soared triumphantly over it all, morphing into hinted silhouettes as the milbots f licked off their spotlights.

  "This way, sir," said the officer. "We have an aircar waiting. It's not much, but I hope you won't find it too uncomfortable."

  This comment startled Toby out of his shock. "Uncomfortable? What do you think I've been—" But there was no point, and anything more he said was just going to turn into screaming anger. He shook his head; but the officer was practically running now, the milbots pushing from behind, so Toby had to say, "What's the hurry? We've been at this for years, a few more seconds isn't going to matter."

  "It might, sir."

  "And stop calling me sir."

  "Yes, Mr. McGonigal."

  Four big boxy troop transports waited on the other side of a stand of trees, along with a smaller staff car. The staff car could seat eight or ten people; four bots similar to the one that had revealed Toby stood next to it. The officer stepped up to them and said to Toby, "In, please."