Valhalla

by Ari Bach

  He guided her to a table, where she began to disrobe. The table was in full view of the clear wall, but there was nobody outside, and years of traditional Scottish nudism had rid her of any such inhibitions. “No need,” said Niide. He tapped his eye with the end of his stethoscope. “These can see… right through you….”

  She pulled her drape back up while he looked her over, and his eyes adjusted to look at her internal organs and skeleton. He continued to mumble. “Hmmm, very severe…. Poor condition, heavy infection…. Disarticulation…. Oh no, no…. Clearly broken…. Mm-hmmm…. All right, then, all’s well, perfect health, clear to go….”

  She waited to hear what his mumbles might have meant, but he had no idea what she was waiting for.

  “Go on, head to, mmm…. Ah, Eric. Armor…. Yes, will see you again…. Soon for the Tikari. Mmm, terribly painful…. Terribly…. Have a nice evening….”

  He wandered away into his office. Eager to clear her head of the latest encounter, she headed to a small building in the back of a cavern near the north end of the complex, where Valfar had mentioned the “Targhlair.” There she found Eric, who ran the tailor and armor plant. Much to her relief, he spoke like a human being. Mostly.

  “We haves your jumpsuits ready. What colors you want? I’ll programs it in for ya. Gotsta pick some features too. Most is standards—ammo pockets, armor plating, breathing mechanism, vacuums protection, heating, cooling, drying, damping, all that jazz. You like jazz?”

  “Um, I don’t really like band music,” she admitted as she pulled on the jumpsuit.

  “Modern girl, huh? Nothing wrongs with that,” he lisped.

  He tapped the collarpiece of her suit as he handed it to her. It gave a tinny sound, “Metal suit, the suit is metal, even the jumpsuits are metal based. Never never never never enter a magnetic zone without turnings on the damping fields! Remember that. Top button, back of your collar, just over the breathing gear. Never enter a magnetic zone undampened! Will freeze up on yas.”

  “What are these cuts in the arms?”

  “For clingers. Attachments—you’ll see when they gives you a microwave. Hooks right on.”

  He went on to show her the Thaco armor shell and jumpsuit capabilities, often repeating his warning about magnets. He had crammed the suits full of every field discriminator (like the one in the com tower) and mag plating known to humankind, but the suit was still metal, and still magnetic. Raw fields and magnetic tractoring waves could affect it if she didn’t turn on the dampener. He explained that the systems used her body as a generator, so if she left the field on all the time, it would tire her out. The armor was tough. It could repel most small projectiles and common microwave beams, but it wasn’t invulnerable.

  “Best nots to get shot. When in doubts about the suit’s defenses, don’t get shot.”

  Next he took her deeper into the tailory and demonstrated a variety of specialty suits, heavy microwave and laser-proof features, gravity suits and vacuum-capable suits, and showed her a sticky suit, which bonded selectively to whatever the wearer wanted, using what Eric called “gecko hair.” She tried on just a glove of the suit and found she was unable to let go of anything she handled.

  “Just don’t thinks about your hand. It will release.”

  But of course, she could only think about her hand being stuck. She decided not to wear the full suit until she had much more practice.

  Eric suggested she get lunch, and she found her way to the cafeteria, where Vibeke was waiting. They sat down to eat. Violet kept to yellow cubes and orange fluids.

  “Good color for your suit,” said Vibeke, “in case anyone forgets your name.”

  “It seemed appropriate. Always been my favorite color.”

  “Just watch in case it changes. If it does, you’re on duty. So can you find your way around?”

  “More or less. The cavern complex is still confusing.”

  “It is. I try to think of it as two rectangles stuck to a triangle.”

  “That sounds about right. So Alf is going to give us our orders, handle everything we do?”

  “Not always. The organizational structure is nearly chaotic. This isn’t a military, nor was it founded from one big bang into a hierarchy. It just filtered into place from nothingness, bodies attracting and gravitating into masses like the rest of the universe. They’ll give you the history if you ask for it.”

  “Yah, Ahlm Shaghr.”

  Vibs laughed. “Valfar starts to make sense as soon as you’re linked in. Alopex has a special program just to translate for him. Snorri is the ravine historian, though. He’s older than Quorthon.”

  “Who’s Alopex?”

  “That’s right, they haven’t plugged you in yet. We have a devoted network. You can get out to the web in one of those black avatars you saw us using when we met. When you plug in here, the first thing you see is Alopex, the local server broadbrain. She can tell you anything.”

  “I guess that will wait till tomorrow?”

  “No, not at all. We’re half nocturnal. Dr. Niide is still on duty.”

  “Why do I need him to link me in?”

  “Because we can’t turn it on until you have your Tikari link, and we can’t give you that till you have a Tikari.”

  Violet was less than eager.

  “Don’t worry,” said Vibs, “they can assemble a new Tikari in under half an hour.”

  But that wasn’t what Violet was worried about.

  TO HER relief it was fast and mostly painless. In theory it could have been completely painless, but a hazing mentality had lingered in the Valhalla clan that suggested giving birth to one’s new body part should not be entirely without feeling. Her choices for weaponry and color and type were taken down for a Bowie knife / robber fly Tikari.

  Dr. Niide programmed the machines, set them to her body scans, and activated a sterile analgia field overhead. He told her to lie still for at least two seconds. In those two seconds, the machinery came out of the ceiling, dug out her chest, put most of it back in, drilled a new antenna into her brain, applied healing systems, and then disappeared back into the ceiling. She continued to lay in place, motionless.

  “Yes, Violet?” mumbled the doctor. “Are you waiting… for something?”

  She got up and headed for the “nursery” to be briefed by the specialists. They explained the basics of the double-link system with a caveat about link damage. In order that a Tikari not be hacked or commandeered by the enemy, should the link be damaged or compromised, the Tikari would turn to weapon form and weld itself dead. It would be just a knife. Another could be made, but the few who had lost theirs didn’t want another for a long time, if at all. It was like trying to replace a sibling.

  Once finished, they left her alone in the operating room. A gel case came out of the Tikari lab wall and opened. Then she saw it. The body was the same color as her suit, name, and eyes, and unlike the first scary insect she had seen, this was simply the most beautiful creature in the world. It stood lifeless, but she felt at that moment as close to a parent as she ever would, in awe of the little bug that was made from her own ribs.

  Then they hit the link, and she heard herself breathing from its sensory interface. Cold words for the warmest connection. She opened its eyes for the first time, and it was like opening her own, though she saw herself—not like a mirror, but like a child seeing her mother. But she recognized herself. There was such sensation seeping into her brain from its AI, she was nearly overcome. She felt from within it like one can feel their own heart when they lay perfectly still. It was eager to move. She stretched its legs for the first time. It felt like stretching her own. She wanted to fly, and so she—it—they could. It hovered, and she knew what it was like to take to the air, to beat her wings a hundred times a second. It was tremendously loud; the metal wings made a terrible buzz.

  As soon as she wondered why hers was so loud, the Tikari link automatically told her what system to activate to make the wings soft as a whisper. She thought the s
ystem on, and the buzzing went silent. The Tikari was very user-friendly for a brain-linked insect robot. And it was easy to fly. She swooped close across the floor, the clarity of her new eyes still shockingly vibrant. They landed. In the next minutes all the confusion of the new sensations fell away, and she walked from the medical bay beaming. Somehow, the Tikari was happy too.

  Once in the med bay lobby, she set the AI loose and told it to return home. The visuals and sounds faded away, and the critter happily snuck into the vent in her suit and tucked itself into her chest. And then she was Violet again, but not alone. The rest of her remained as close as close gets. The Tikari’s internal chronometer reminded her that if she didn’t continue on with Vibeke, she might spend eternity playing with her new knife.

  Back in their barracks, Vibs logged in and gave the commands to start Violet’s account. Violet restarted the conventional link behind her ear and saw Alopex. Alopex, unlike the typical home system, appeared to be a fully developed AI, represented by a white fox.

  “Hello, Violet,” said the fox, “I’m Alopex. I also answer to APX for raw interface. What can I do for you?”

  “System immersion.”

  Reality blacked out, and she was alone in the darkness with Alopex.

  “Where’s the home silo?”

  “Alopex system is not designed for immersion. Specific menus and imagery can be called up individually. Immersion in public nets is accessible by calling up any log-in point.”

  She snapped back out to the real world. She looked around, but there were no ads or wall graphics.

  “Call up local titles.”

  Nothing appeared.

  “Alopex system does not have local titles.”

  “Call up local directory?”

  “Alopex system has no directory.”

  Violet could feel maps and menus ready to pop up if called, but it was true, there was no directory. It was almost like being unlinked. She dimmed Alopex and spoke to Vibeke.

  “What kind of system is this?”

  “It does anything you need. You can call up any information and get to the outside, but there are no local features, no wandering avatars or lobbies, just Aloe.”

  She had expected Valhalla to lose its mystery and sense of awe when the link returned. If she intentionally called up a map or label, she could see what building was what. She could call up a manual and comprehend some of Valfar’s more mispronounced instructions. The link even read text for her like she was used to, but unless she asked for something, the link gave nothing. It was a net that she could control—the best of both worlds. She considered what other questions to ask the wise fox and her human companion, but the multitude of unknowns formed a logjam, and no single curiosity came forward.

  “It’s very quiet,” Vibs explained. “No ads, no incoming labels, no interruptions at all.”

  The fox spoke. “Veikko, Vibeke, Violet, Sector 12A. Walrus detail.”

  Vibeke blew a stray hair from her face. They grabbed the equipment and followed Alopex, who trotted to sector 12A. As the fox moved, she left a lit path on the ground for them to follow. At the end of the lit path, they met Veikko on a section of the walkway that spiraled up the wall.

  “This is our life now,” he greeted them. “Ignore your dreams and aspirations. This giant blubber monster is your future.”

  “God, Veikko, give it up. We’ve only done it twice.”

  So continued their argument all the way to the cages, where Veikko left them to return to his own training.

  “It’s really not all that often,” Vibs said. “Now, where were we?”

  “Alopex. I have so many questions, and I can’t think of a single one.”

  “Ask her the rest in your sleep. As for what the computer can’t tell you, people tend to congregate in the elevator lounges and cafeteria, but the games in the gym are most popular. Did Valfar show you the gym?”

  “He showed me where it was, but we didn’t go in.”

  “You need to get hard as ice and stay that way. There’s always human-instructed training in weapons and martial arts, all the usual exercise machines, but nothing compares to På Täppan.”

  Aside from the expansive and lush complex of the gym, with its soft shag grass floors and an immense artificial moonlit sky, the exercise facility had a full indoor field devoted to the ancient and noble art of civil warfare called “På Täppan,” which Violet had learned under the Scottish name “King of the Hill.” The rules were the same, but the stakes here were raised. Firstly, the “Hill” appeared to be composed mostly of losing players, team people in armor and civilian residents in whatever else. Second, it was played under an analgia generator, rendering players unaware of pain. This resulted in the most brutal sport ever conceived. In the massive throbbing pile of shouting bodies were acts of hedonistic cruelty that the playground version could never approach. People were thrown as weapons. People were stepped on, trampled, beaten, pulled on, everything short of bitten, and then they were savagely bitten. Winning was short-lived. One man was tackled as he bellowed his victory cry only to tumble down with his usurper. There seemed no real care for remaining on top, only for indulging in the horrible trial of it all.

  Violet was still in peak military shape, and lasted exactly fifty-three seconds, making it one-eighth up the heap before she was thrown to the ground, out of breath. Vibeke, having a month more practice, lasted an impressive three minutes but climbed little higher. Violet couldn’t help but notice the exceptional form Vibs showed as she climbed, how she was so strong, muscular like the strongest of climbers, yet still kept a most feminine figure. Her interest was half in the hopes that she too would look the same after as much exercise, and half something else. The short time spent in the venture proved it to be an ideal form of exercise, at least for the extraordinarily fit and somewhat devilish.

  “Vibs,” shouted a deep female voice with a Russian accent, “you are better suited to sparring, one on one, not this spectacle of twisted limbs and tumbling.”

  Vibeke, still out of breath, introduced the caller. “Hi. Mishka, Violet; Violet, Mishka, Mannaz team.”

  Mishka was buff and tall, with very long red hair. Her Thaco armor was blood red.

  “Hi,” said Violet.

  “Hello, you must be the new meat.”

  “Must be,” she replied, suddenly bashful.

  “Mishka’s been my partner for some time,” said Vibeke. “Sparring, sparring partner. She’s a monster.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Mishka laughed, though her smile never reached her eyes.

  “You too. How long have you been here?” Violet asked.

  “Two years. Forty-three major missions. But not a good deal of this mountain-climbing sort of thing. There are more dignified ways to stay in shape.”

  “When have you ever cared for dignity, Mishka?”

  Mishka just grinned, bit her lip, and walked away, brushing against Vibeke as she left.

  “Do svidaniya,” Vibs whispered. Then she turned to Violet. “Sparring is important, but this anarchist equivalent has its charms. I think she’s just annoyed I have a new teammate. She won’t get to beat the crap out me anymore.”

  The two headed back to the barracks. Vibeke explained a few more bits and pieces of the new link system on the way. “Quantum cryptography. All automatic. The closer you are to Valhalla or whoever you’re talking to, the thicker the encryption. If you linked to me right now, it would be the most private conversation two humans ever had. If you link to me from Mars, you’ll be yelling so loud half the planet can butt in. You can also send Alopex along with the message if you can’t locate the recipient.”

  As the analgia wore off, the pain caused by Violet’s brief time on the hill began to manifest. She had worked herself even harder than she thought and began to limp. She was relieved that Vibeke wasn’t immune to the same. They stumbled into the barracks to find Veikko waiting.

  “På Täppan?” he asked.

  “Yeah, she lasted almost a min
ute.”

  “Not bad,” said Veikko. “I spent ten seconds in the pile my first time and left with broken feet. There’s a reason the medical bay’s next to the gym.”

  “Anything new?” asked Vibeke.

  “Yeah, a problem. Detectors on special arsenal seven’s gate have malfunctioned twice in as many days.”

  “An accident?”

  “We don’t know. Sowilo team is on it. Skadi told me earlier. But two separate failures suggests something wants them to fail.”

  “What’s in the special arsenal? Valfar only gave me the short version.”

  “Special weapons, systems capable of unique attacks and so on,” Veikko explained, “Nothing horrifically dangerous. We don’t carry atomic or wave bombs here.”

  “But it’s S team’s job?”

  “For now,” said Veikko.

  “What is V team supposed to be doing?” Violet asked.

  “Training you and awaiting a fourth member.”

  “Tired, Veikko, no jokes?” asked Vibs. “You didn’t tell her we had to go nuke Tunisia or something?”

  Veikko laughed and explained, “That’s Cato, the elder from Calc team. Ends every meeting with ‘Nuke Tunisia.’ You’ll meet them all in time. I’m just starting to remember all the names without asking Aloe. Call the computer ‘Aloe’ if you don’t want her to hear her name and barge in.”

  “He also knows Skadi pretty well,” suggested Vibs with a raised eyebrow.

  “Yeah, very smart, very cute, very tall. Still can’t make her laugh. Nothing can make that girl laugh. As soon as we start our own missions, that’s one of ’em—make her laugh. She did tell me her old name, though. Karrie.”

  “Does anyone forget their old names?”

  He rubbed his eyes. “I’m sure trying to. My real name was, well, it didn’t start with a V.”

  Before he could divulge his former nomenclature, the intercom intruded.

  “Veikko, Vibeke, Violet, Sector 33B. Walrus detail.” Veikko smirked.

  “Okay fine,” said Vibeke, “it’s really damn often.”

  And so they dealt with another walrus. Later Violet learned a couple more ropes. She played with her Tikari and her new closest friends, then fell asleep to converse with Veikko and Vibs in her dreams. They didn’t address any important matters while asleep and didn’t teach her too much new material. They just talked and rested up for the next day.