Prometheus Ascends (The Great Insurrection Book 6)

by David Beers

  Either they had been here a long time and understood it didn’t matter what they did, no communication would be forthcoming, or…

  They didn’t exist.

  Ares was leaning toward the latter. The alien creatures were simply too strange, as if they’d been made up from a story and not created by the gods or evolution.

  Either way, it didn’t matter. They weren’t trying to speak to him.

  Ares had dreamed ten times, but he didn’t think that was because he’d been here for a long time. Rather, he thought the ceiling was making him sleep more. Something happened while he slept, and the machines were somehow using it.

  He looked to the right down the white hallway. Monk was on the way. It came up to Ares’ knees and rolled on treads. It had arms and hand-like instruments, though most of the time they held a serving tray with food or liquids or some new threadbare clothing.

  As Ares watched it approach, he realized he was starting to humanize the thing and thinking of it as “he.”

  What does it matter? Ares thought. I’m alone on a foreign planet, and this non-speaking entity is my only real company. I’ll call him “he” if I damn well want to.

  Sometimes Monk rolled past Ares’ cell and down the hallway to some other destination. This time, though, it rolled to a stop in front of the Titan.

  It had no serving tray, and its body had straightened in a way Ares hadn’t known was possible. He must have hunched the rest of the time, but now its head reached Ares’ shoulder.

  Monk’s head was human-like. It had blue eyes on the front of its gray metal skull. Its nose poked out like a dog’s rather than a human’s, and there appeared to be a mouth on the end, though Ares had never heard a word come from it or seen the machine eat.

  “How’s it going, Monk?” Ares asked.

  The machine did something different: it cocked its head to the left as if trying to understand his words. Usually Monk moved almost like a tank—a square thing that only looked straight ahead, but as it cocked its head, Ares was struck by how much the thing resembled a praying mantis.

  “That’s a new look for ya, Monk. I can’t say whether I like it or not.”

  When the machine spoke, the voice was bass-filled and electrical. It wasn’t close to human. “Come with me.”

  Ares’ face showed no surprise, his father’s training holding strong. He glanced at the four corners of the wall. “Ya know, Monk, if I wasn’t smarter, I’d think you were trying to get me to bust my nose again. I remember that you didn’t provide me with anything to wipe up the blood. Just this.” He reached down and lightly pulled on the shirt. “And it doesn’t soak up liquids very well.”

  “Your sense of humor is understood if unappreciated. Come with me, Romulus de Livius.”

  Ares wasn’t surprised that the machine knew his name, though he did wonder how much the thing knew. There wasn’t any use sitting here arguing with it, though. Rather than walk forward, he placed a hand on the wall, and for the first time, it wasn’t solid.

  It felt like he was sticking his hand through running water, even though the wall didn’t appear to be moving. Ares pushed his hand all the way through, and he saw it on the other side.

  “Well, damn, Monk, you aren’t lying.” Ares stepped through, the feeling of water running over him covering his body. He stepped to the other side and looked at his arms, then pushed his hair back, half-expecting it to be wet. He was dry, and the mantis-looking Monk was staring up at him.

  “Come with me,” he repeated in that bass-filled voice.

  “Mind telling me where we’re going?”

  “It is time.” Monk whirled then, and its treads started scooting it down the hall.

  Ares didn’t think about attacking the machine. Anything he did now besides listen to Monk would most likely result in pain if not death, yet before following, he did a quick look around. There were alien creatures in the two cells next to him and as far down as he could see.

  He walked forward a few steps after Monk but stopped in front of the cell next to his.

  A hybrid creature stared at him. From the neck down it looked wolfish, though it stood on two legs. From the neck up, it had pale skin, blue eyes, and an attractive human face.

  “Come!” Monk boomed from in front of him.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming,” Ares said as he gazed at the hybrid.

  He could probably stop in front of every cell and see something different, but right now, Monk was staring at him, and its blue eyes didn’t seem too happy.

  Ares moved forward, but Monk waited until he was a meter away before starting again.

  “I came here with a woman, Monk, but I don’t see her in any of these cells. Tall, not a bad figure, brunette. You know who I’m talking about?”

  “You came here with another humanoid. She is still under observation.”

  They passed cell after cell, and Ares couldn’t help but look at the different creatures. They were all fucking strange. “Look, we can get back to the humanoid, but are these things I’m looking at real?”

  Monk stopped and whipped around so it was facing Ares. The movement was so sudden, the Titan almost ran into the machine, barely stopping in front of it. “Calm down, robot butler.”

  He had something else to say, but when he opened his mouth, he was dropping. It was fast enough that his feet rose off the ground, though the machine remained stationary.

  Ares’ hand shot forward and he grabbed Monk’s metal arm to steady himself as walls whipped past him. If he leaned too far in one direction or the other, he’d be injured if not ripped apart.

  He pulled himself close to the robot, realizing it could kill him without much trouble. His core was open to the creature, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

  “Calm,” the machine said.

  Ares’ looked down at it with no emotion. “Don’t I look calm, Monk?”

  “Your father trained you well, but your pulse has risen. Remain calm or severe injury may occur.”

  That was one of the main differences between him and Alistair. Between Alistair and anyone, really. The man’s body didn’t react to outside stimuli.

  Ares ignored the comment about his father. He understood they were in his mind, playing with his dreams, and hopefully he’d understand the purpose soon.

  The hole they’d dropped through had closed. He could only see the lights lining the tunnel. He turned his head to Monk, but the machine was staring forward as if it were out of commission.

  The platform slowed, then it exited the tunnel.

  It came to a stop and hovered just above the floor, about two meters from the ceiling. Ares thought about saying something smart, but as he turned around, the words fled his head.

  A hundred—maybe two hundred—machines were on the floor. They were small rat-like things. They didn’t have tails, but they rested on four metal legs and looked up at him with flat faces and red eyes.

  Monk wasted no time. He rolled off the platform, nearly crunching five of the rat-machines. They rushed out of his way quickly, though he swiped with one of his arms and grabbed one. Monk tossed it behind him, his blue eyes growing brighter as he did.

  If they’re connected, Ares thought, then they’re communicating without speaking.

  He stepped off the platform. None of the rat-machines rushed him, but rather they left a path for him to follow Monk. As he moved forward, he looked behind him and saw that they were closing up and following. Some lashed out at the others that got too close, making them appear even more animal-like.

  Monk was a few meters ahead of him, really booking it.

  Ares jogged after him. “What are these things, Monk? Are they your rats?”

  Monk said nothing, just kept rolling.

  After another five minutes of following the machine while being followed by a bundle of them, Monk came to a stop. He didn’t look at Ares but kept his head facing forward.

  The rat creatures had halted much farther behind and formed a semi-circle
.

  “Go forward and focus your eyes on the panel,” Monk told him.

  Ares had come along without showing any apprehension, but he was done with the charade. All the machines were showing either fear or reverence toward the panel on the far wall; Ares couldn’t tell which.

  Either way, this behavior was different, and he didn’t like it.

  “What is it?” he asked the machine.

  “Go forward and focus your eyes on the panel.”

  “What if I don’t?”

  The rats behind him chittered as if they understood the question.

  Monk turned his head to the right while his body kept facing forward. “Your journey ends.”

  Ares didn’t ask any more questions. Monk wasn’t telling him he’d be put back on his ship and sent back to a world populated with humans. The journey Monk was talking about was life.

  Fuck it, Ares thought.

  He went forward. Monk’s head turned to follow him.

  The panel was built into the white wall, the only black on it. Ares was just about to bend over when the panel started moving up to his height. It slid up the wall; Ares didn’t understand how that was even possible, but he would add it to the list.

  The panel stopped in front of his face.

  The lights dimmed.

  Nothing else happened, though. There was no light from the panel, nothing that said it had scanned his eyes.

  A few seconds passed, then Monk spoke from behind. “To the right.”

  Ares turned his head, and for the first time, he saw a technology he understood. It was an oldie but a goody. “Go in?”

  “Yes,” the machine responded.

  “If I make it out of here, Monk, we’re going to need to discuss putting some jokes in your programming. Some kind of levity. Your bedside manner needs work.”

  Ares went to the right. The rat-machines chittered, their voices high-pitched. Ares forced down the fear growing in him. He’d been a Titan, a Primus, and was still a de Livius, son of Adrian.

  He turned the doorknob and pulled open the door.

  Bright white light flooded out and blinded Ares to everything except its glory.

  The white light was suddenly gone, and Ares found himself in his father’s study.

  It wasn’t his present-day father, though, but the man who had told Ares not to lose his soul. That it was better to be low and have a soul than high and not have one.

  His father sat behind his desk, looking at work in front of him, but instead of a DataTrack, paper sat on it—which didn’t make any sense. Ares didn’t think he’d ever seen actual paper for people to write on. Given the resources on this planet, he wasn’t sure how it could be here, either.

  Adrian looked up. His face was as measured and stern as it’d been years before. It was almost perfect, but it was missing something. Ares couldn’t pinpoint it; he only knew this was a mere representation of his father.

  “How long have I been in a simulation?” Ares asked, finally understanding what this was.

  His father placed his pen on the desk. “The changeover happened after we separated you and your companion.”

  “It’s all been a simulation? The cell, the other creatures I saw, the trip down here? I’ve been having dreams inside dreams, basically?”

  Adrian leaned back in the chair. “That’s a simplistic way of looking at it, but it’ll work for now.”

  Maybe there’d be time to consider the technicalities of that at some point, but Ares had never been a man for pondering the world. He preferred to move through it, and that was what he needed to do now. “What is this place? Who built it?”

  “If I told you I don’t know, would you believe me?”

  “No,” Ares said. He looked to his left at where his father’s window should be, then walked over to it and looked down. He saw the rolling hills he’d seen growing up. A brown horse was grazing. Ares turned his eyes to the sky. Large, puffy clouds slowly moved across it. “What are you?”

  “You should think of me as a caretaker. I look after this place.”

  “The simulation or the actual world?” Ares knew machines ruled this planet. It wasn’t all a simulation.

  “Both. Simulations are primarily used to understand those who reach this planet.”

  “The others I saw in the cells? Simulations?” Ares asked.

  “Representations of others who came. You will have a representation too.”

  The complexities in this place kept growing. Ares turned toward the desk. “Is Veena in the simulation? Is she okay?”

  A slight nod. “She’s okay.”

  “If you don’t know where this place came from, why is it here? Is it the algorithm?”

  Adrian stood and walked to the window. His gait and height were perfect, though something was still off.

  Adrian looked out the window at the horse. “The algorithm is here. This world exists to house the algorithm. Everything here, including this simulation, is meant to protect it.”

  Ares shook his head. “That’s not possible. The person who stole it sent it away without anyone knowing. Anyone who could create this place could fight the Commonwealth. Most likely win, as well.”

  “Your lack of knowledge is not surprising, but your belief in this anti-knowledge is astounding.” He nodded at the window. “Look out there.”

  Ares turned his head, and he found himself staring into space. A single ship was floating in the distance, though not so far away that he couldn’t make it out.

  “That’s the closest representation we could build of the original ship that contained the algorithm. Do you know how many people were aboard it?”

  “I don’t know anything about that ship or this place except that there’s supposed to be an algorithm. One that allows for an almost all-knowing AI and the ability to upload one’s mind into the cloud. That’s what I’m here for, that algorithm.”

  His father spoke as if he’d said nothing. “The ship found this place. I was already here, and I’d been waiting for it. There were three hundred and forty-two people on it when it arrived, though of course, they weren’t allowed to leave. I did my best to make their remaining years as pleasant as possible. Obviously, some of them resented me, us, and this place, but there wasn’t anything I could do about that.”

  The scene in front of Ares morphed to the ship landing on this barren planet, with humans exiting the dreadnought. Ares had stopped watching, though, turning his head toward Adrian. “You were waiting for it?” he asked. “Meaning, you knew it was coming?”

  Again, his father didn’t give a response to what Ares had said. “Since then, almost one thousand years ago, others have come here. Many more than you saw in those simulated cells. All have failed to get the algorithm. My programming told me that one would come, but my programming also allows me to learn through my experiences. I had begun to believe that no one would appear. That I would guard the algorithm forever.”

  The image in the window turned black.

  Ares stepped away from it, moving to the far wall. “Everything you’re saying is insane. Your circuits are frying because none of this is possible. If I believe the notion that the ship landed here, there isn’t any way you were waiting for it. Most likely, the algorithm was reprogrammed by someone who came later to bring us, after building you, and for what reason, I can’t imagine. For you to be waiting for it, either the gods or someone from the future would have had to set all this up.”

  To Ares’ surprise, his father nodded solemnly. “My only question is, would there be any difference between someone from the future or a god? To you, to me, only able to travel one way through time, wouldn’t such a being look the same?” He paused for a second. “What do you want the algorithm for?”

  “You’ve lived in my mind. Don’t you know?”

  “You’re the first from your solar system to come here.” He turned from the window to look at Ares. “Why did you come here to get this algorithm?”

  Ares fixed his jaw and stared at the
representation of his father. “What else was I going to do? I gave up everything. I’m a hunted man. That algorithm is worth more than my and Veena’s lives times a thousand. Ten thousand. If we get it, we can buy our freedom.”

  His father looked at the floor. “I can count how many have come here, wanting credit or money, whatever term they use for currency. It’s a high number, Romulus de Livius. A higher number come to use the algorithm to build their own machine. Truthfully, everything I’ve done was to ensure those people don’t get it.”

  “Why are we talking?” Ares asked. “You know me as well as I know myself. What is the point of this?”

  Adrian looked up, and Ares finally understood what was different about the thing.

  It was the eyes.

  His father was stern, even cold, but there was love in the man. Behind the hard eyes and the stiff upper lip, a certain kind of love drove him.

  This representation couldn’t replicate that. It couldn’t put love behind those eyes, no matter how much it knew.

  “I’m only the keeper of the algorithm. I don’t own it, and I was never supposed to. You and I are talking because I wanted to speak to the ones who would lift this burden from me and those who helped protect the algorithm.”

  “I don’t understand. I’m going to buy my life with it, and I haven’t even considered who I’ll sell it to. Maybe it’ll be one of those who want to build their own intelligence.”

  The representation smiled, though even then, it couldn’t fake love. “Your lack of knowledge isn’t surprising, but your belief in it is still astounding. We’re well met, Romulus de Livius.”

  Ares opened his mouth to speak again about how little sense any of this made, but the simulation began to fall apart.

  His body, the body of his father, the room around them—they all started to flake apart in perfect squares.

  Ares couldn’t speak, and then he couldn’t see.

  His universe went black.

  Chapter Five