by J. N. Chaney
I didn’t say anything as we continued walking through the darkened tunnel.
“They said she didn’t die right away,” he finally continued. “I used to wonder about that. I tried to imagine what she felt like, being buried in the cold. It used to keep me up at night, and I had nightmares about it for years.” He swallowed. “But I haven’t thought about it since we left home. Even before that, it only happened every once in a while. Maybe once a year.”
“But it’s happening now,” I said.
He nodded. “Out of nowhere, and I can’t suppress it. I keep thinking, this is what it was like. This darkness. This sense of—” He paused. “—of loneliness. I keep thinking how scared she had to be in those last few seconds, and then it scares me.” He looked up, into my eyes. “I can’t get it out of my head, sir. I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t make any sense. I just—”
“Makes perfect sense,” I said, cutting him off.
“S-Sir?”
“You see that light?” I asked him, already knowing his answer. “The second I saw it, I remembered something, too. You ever been to the ocean, Verne?”
He shook his head.
“No, I guess your old world didn’t have much in the way of that, did it? Well, I grew up on Epsy, and it had its share of water. Enough you could get lost in it. One day, when I was a kid, I spent a day on a coastal shore, near a place called Pregal, close to where my uncle lived. Pop brought me out there on a whim, all because he’d gotten it into his head that every boy ought to learn how to fish.”
Verne looked a little more relaxed, intently listening to the story as we walked.
“Well,” I continued, “We spent seven hours riding tiny waves, laughing and making plans we’d never do. Never caught a single fish, wouldn’t you know it, but not for lack of trying. My old man brought the wrong bait. Freshwater instead of salt, but we didn’t figure that much out until the next day.”
I laughed, which made Verne smile.
“All the same, it wasn’t so bad. There were worse days with the old man, but that was one of the better ones. I made my way back to the ocean a few more times after that, but that’s the day that came to mind before anything else. Why do you reckon that is?”
“I wish I knew,” he admitted.
“It’s funny,” I went on. “Here we are, the sorry lot of us, creeping through the black, buried in a place that shouldn’t exist, and our minds are elsewhere, someplace far away. It ain’t got nothing to do with any of this, nothing but whatever we can piece together to make the connection, but it’s all a bit of nonsense. We’re looking to make sense of things, however we can, and our minds end up getting lost in themselves. Have you given any thought to Petra since you got here?”
The question seemed to throw him, and he didn’t give an answer.
“In all the fear, you’ve gone and forgotten, haven’t you?”
“I, uh,” he muttered, his voice trailing.
“Don’t sweat it, kid,” I said, assuring him. “Happens to all of us. We forget about the world outside our heads sometimes, but you gotta remember why we’re all here. All those friends of yours, the folks who came with you from that frozen hell hole—they’re held up someplace, waiting on us to give them some good news. If you find yourself in a fog, try to focus on one of them. Think about why you’re here.”
“Is that what you do?” he asked. “Try to find the thing you care about and focus on it?”
I looked at the rest of my team, each of them walking ahead of me. I settled my eyes on Abigail, then cleared my throat. “Yeah, kid. That’s about the sum of it.”
* * *
We followed the light for nearly ten minutes, never slowing. I hadn’t realized how far away it truly was until we were nearly on it, allowing us to see that it was a door.
The only door, as far as we could tell.
It even had a handle.
We stopped before it, perhaps thinking the same thought, until Octavia decided to say it. “I suppose this is all the proof we need to know this facility was built for people.” The light from the cracks reflected off her visor, bending through and illuminating her face as she looked at me. “Wouldn’t you say?”
I gave her a slow nod, then stepped closer and touched the handle.
“Hold on!” snapped Verne.
Abigail and Octavia twisted around to look at him, their hands falling to their holsters, letting instinct take over.
“Easy,” I said, calming them, before glancing at Verne. “What are you going on about, kid?”
He swallowed. “It’s just that there could be a nest on the other side. You know, those things could be waiting for us. It’s safe out here, but we can’t see ahead. My visor’s sensor isn’t showing anything.”
“That’s true,” agreed Dressler. “I’m detecting interference.”
“What’s the cause?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Unknown, but the likeliest is electromagnetic. We should be careful.”
Verne took a quick breath. “It could be the nest, like I said before. A machine that creates them, shoves them out like insects from a queen. We could be walking into a trap.”
I looked at Abigail, but she didn’t seem concerned. Neither did Octavia. They were both prepared for whatever came at us. They’d always been that way. They might not be soldiers, but close enough.
Squeezing the handle, I gave it a slight turn. “Trilobites can’t use doors, kid,” I said, pulling my pistol free of its holster. “But that doesn’t mean we won’t be ready for them.”
The door eased open, letting the light flood the corridor. My visor darkened instantly, shortening the time I needed to adjust, although I still felt the shock of what I saw before me.
A massive space, filled with towering walls of blinking lights—computers, I had to imagine, placed with such precise symmetry that it almost looked robotic in design.
The area ahead had to be the largest atrium I’d ever seen, with multiple walkways hugging the walls at every level. The ceiling was beyond view, stretching high above us to some unknowable end.
We were speechless at the sight, each of us craning our necks to look as we tried fruitlessly to see the top.
“What is this place?” muttered Abigail, finally breaking the silence. The question lingered in the air as we tried our best to piece together an answer. The truth of the matter was that every step of this journey had been a surprise. Why should this moment be any different?
“I wish I knew,” replied Dressler, after a short while, her mouth still slightly agape. “My only guess is that it must be a kind of central processing unit for the entire system.”
“Processing unit?” asked Verne.
“The brain of the planet,” said Abigail.
Dressler nodded. “In a sense, perhaps, although nothing is certain.”
“Nothing is ever certain,” replied Octavia. “Not when it comes to Earth.”
Dressler walked closer to one of the walls, examining the machines. She was careful not to touch it, although I could see the curiosity building in her eyes.
Abigail trailed away from us, towards a set of stairs. They hugged the wall, leading to another level with a railing. “The way this place is structured…it’s almost like a library, isn’t it?” she asked, gliding a finger on the silver rail.
“Do you see anything up there?” asked Octavia.
Abigail paused, looking around the atrium. “I see plenty, although I couldn’t tell you what any of it is.”
“Fair enough,” muttered Dressler, still studying the nearby console. Without looking up from it, she swung her satchel around and retrieved a small piece of metal. It appeared to be a thumb drive. “The architecture here is somewhat different from the last time we did this, but it looks compatible.”
“What are you doing?” asked Verne.
“I believe I’ve found an insert,” she answered, brushing her finger along the crevice of the slot. She glanced over her shoulder towards me. “Captain, sh
all I proceed?”
“Go ahead, Doc,” I replied, but then added, “Just don’t do anything that’ll get us all killed.”
She turned back. “I’m afraid I can’t make any promises.”
She plugged the drive directly into the console, taking a step away from the wall and examining the nearby displays, which were still empty.
“Siggy, you in there yet?” I asked, after a few seconds had passed.
No answer.
“Are we too far from the drones?” asked Octavia.
“The amount of Neutronium between us and the last drone might be interfering,” said Verne.
“He just spoke to us through the suits,” said Abigail.
“Maybe the suits are better at relaying the signal,” argued Verne.
“I don’t think it works like that.”
“Quiet, please!” snapped Dressler, leaning in closer to the console, staring at a set of blinking lights. The group went still as a board at the sudden outburst.
All except for me. I just stood there, leaning against the wall with my arms crossed, waiting.
“Look here,” muttered Dressler, after a bit. She pointed at one of the lights. “This is new. Right here. Look.”
I eased up off the wall and walked closer. She seemed to be pointing to a small, constant yellow light. “What about it?”
She held a finger in the air to hush me.
I waited, but opened my mouth to ask one more time just what she was talking—
“—paring to restore system and activate interface,” said Sigmond with a muffled, static-filled voice. “Standby for—”
The connection dropped with a soft click, and everyone looked at each other. “What’s wrong with him?” asked Verne.
“He’s working,” assured Abigail. “Isn’t that right?”
Dressler stood up and eased back from the console, then nodded, keeping totally quiet.
There was a long silence as we waited for Sigmond to speak again. When he finally did, half of us jumped.
“—tecting internal signature—” Sigmond’s voice faded in and out as he spoke. “—ognitive sequence initiating. Protocol override for—” Another pause. “—warning! Trilobite hive appears to be—”
“That’s not normal,” said Abigail, shuffling down the stairs. “We need to get him out of there before we lose him!”
“Not yet,” said Dressler, still calm.
Alphonse was standing to my left. “Did I hear the word Cognitive just now?” he asked, looking at me.
“He also mentioned a trilobite hive,” said Octavia.
Right as Abigail marched up to Dressler, the doctor threw another finger up, stopping her.
Abigail glared at it, then at Dressler. “Don’t tell me to be quiet, MaryAnn. We almost lost him once before and I refuse to let it—”
At once, a multitude of lights flickered along the surface of the console, drawing everyone’s attention forward. It spread to the nearby monitors, causing each of them to fill with different colors, changing rapidly and growing brighter by the second. The lights continued around every wall and across all levels until the entire atrium shined with such brightness that it caused my visor to auto-dim.
Everyone took a step back as Abigail reached for the thumb drive and pulled it from the slot, yanking it free.
The lights disappeared at once, but only for a moment. It was just enough time for Verne to say, “I don’t think that’s normal.”
A flash of blue light appeared between Abigail and Dressler, taking them both by surprise. The two women leapt backwards and shielded their bodies.
Octavia and Alphonse went for their guns, rushing to the forefront, but my pistol was already drawn and aimed.
“Hold your fire, please,” came a voice in my ear, speaking to the entire group. It was Sigmond, returned to us, now that the thumb drive had been pulled. “You’ll only damage the data module!”
“Siggy, what the hell is going on?!” I barked.
The light swirled in the air before me, taking shape like paint on a canvas. The color came together to form lines and detail, eyes and ears, hair and face, body and clothes. A woman dressed in robes, hair down to her waist, and beautiful.
This was a Cognitive, no doubt in my mind.
“Activating Cognition sequence,” said the woman, her voice a strange mix of tones, like multiple people saying the same thing at once. “Warning: partial data degradation detected. Attempting system defragmentation.”
“What is this?” asked Abigail, almost in a whisper.
I shot a quick glance to Dressler, who was staring up at the Cognitive with a wide-eyed look on her face. “Doc?”
Dressler blinked. “I-I believe she’s attempting to reset herself.”
“For what purpose?” asked Octavia.
“Warning: corrupted data modules detected. Unable to restore,” continued the Cognitive. “Cognition activation sequence complete with 91% restoration.”
The woman flickered as the light reformed itself, her shape and body becoming less blurry and more defined. “Greetings,” she said at last. “I am the central Cognitive and caretaker of Earth, tasked with overseeing Project Reclamation and all of its terraforming processes. You may call me Gaia.”
FIFTEEN
“Another Cognitive,” muttered Octavia.
Dressler eased closer to the glowing woman, staring at her with a slack jawed expression. “Fascinating.”
I switched to a private channel. “Siggy, tell me what’s going on, and keep it short. Where did this Gaia come from and why wasn’t she here before?”
“Apologies, sir,” replied Sigmond. “I discovered a series of dormant programs inside the system, including control of the trilobite network itself. Unfortunately, I do not possess the proper authorization, but Gaia does. I attempted to relay this information to you, but when I received no response, I took it upon myself to—”
“Wake her up,” I finished. “Right. I guess I can see how that might be of some use to us.”
“Based on what I saw in the system, she is the only one who can shut down the trilobites.”
Gaia looked at me and smiled. “Your Cognitive is correct,” she said, taking me by surprise. I hadn’t expected her to hear our conversation. “I alone have the capability to manipulate the terramining processing units.”
I switched back to the main team channel. “Did anyone catch that?”
“I think she’s talking about the trilobites,” said Dressler.
“That so?” I asked.
Gaia raised her hand to one of the screens along the nearby wall, causing an image of one of the trilobites to appear. “The terramining unit known as X201-33SG or, as you have chosen to call it, the trilobite.”
“Gaia, what is the purpose of said unit?” asked Dressler, jumping at the chance for more information.
“X201-33SG exists solely to harvest and store matter. Upon its delivery, the material is repurposed towards the terraforming process.”
“Just as I thought,” muttered Dressler.
“Hey,” I snapped. “Skip ahead to the part where she tells us how to shut the damn things down. In case you forgot, Doc, we’ve got an infestation to deal with.”
“Of course,” said Dressler, turning back to the Cognitive. “Gaia, how do we disable the X201-33SG units?”
“Simple,” replied Gaia. “I need only withdraw the terramining units to their stations to be placed in standby mode. It should be a simple matter of—”
The Cognitive twitched, a digital wave sweeping over her entire body, transforming her clothes from ancient robes to a more modern uniform. Her hair, which had previously fallen to her waist, now hung in a ponytail.
Gaia paused and stared into the air with an almost vacant expression before finally blinking.
I raised my brow. “Siggy, what the hell was that?”
“Unknown, sir,” said Sigmond. “Perhaps a malfunction.”
“Gaia?” asked Dressler.
�
�I apologize,” said the Cognitive. “What was your request?”
Dressler and I exchanged a look. “I asked how to shut down the terramining machines. You said you might be able to do that for us. Is that right?”
“Did I?” asked Gaia. She tilted her head in confusion. “How strange. I can’t seem to recall.”
“Uh oh,” said Abigail.
“Please, allow me to try again. There appears to be a gap in my logs,” revealed Gaia.
She paused again, but not for long. At once, a flash of light burst from her body, replacing her clothes with rags, dirt on her hands and bare feet, chains around her wrists. The woman had gone from elegant to disorderly in a matter of seconds. “W-Warning!” she exclaimed, eyes wide and unfocused. She looked terrified, almost traumatized. “A-Attempted query failed! Unable to—”
A wide blast of blue light exploded from the Cognitive, sweeping through the atrium. Verne fell back, shielding his face, while the rest of us dove to the floor, unsure about whether or not a Cognitive could actually physically hurt us.
“What just happened?!” blurted out Abigail.
“She must be malfunctioning,” responded Dressler, trying to pull herself back to her feet, although she was visibly shaken.
“I believe the doctor is correct,” said Sigmond. “The system has degraded over time. It stands to reason Gaia has as well.”
“Are we looking at another Hephaestus situation?” I asked.
“I don’t believe so, sir,” said Sigmond. “Gaia’s behavior is quite different. She appears to be having trouble accessing certain faculties, such as certain memories and processes, but her personality remains largely intact. This implies that her basic Cognition is still uncorrupted, which leaves the physical data storage units, such as her Capsule.”
“In other words, the hardware’s to blame,” explained Alphonse. “Not the software.”
“Correct,” said Sigmond.
“How do we fix it?” asked Abigail.
“I might be able to reformat the Capsule myself,” said Sigmond. “However, you will need to re-insert the drive.”