by Waiting for the Machines to Fall Asleep- The Best New Science Fiction from Sweden (retail) (epub)
"Wait," Norna said. "You saw?"
She attempted to sit up, but didn't make it far – she might have survived, but she was still injured. The wound on her arm was already in the process of healing, as a scab now covered the area that recently had been occupied by a large gash. Years in the future new small ones would ask her about the scar that would appear on this spot a few weeks from now.
She gave up trying to sit up, and remained lying down.
"Why were you there?" the young woman asked Morgo. "I thought I was alone."
"No one that tries to become Passed is all alone," Morgo said. "Someone already Passed always follow the small one in the Wildern, to make sure that they really kill Beast, and doesn't lie or run away. But kill Beast you did. So now, you are Passed."
Norna didn't reply.
When the time had come for her to make her rite of passage, she had imagined how an eventual Passing would feel like, how it all would strike her. She had pictured feelings of intense pride, of joy and triumph, but instead she felt a strange calm wash over her.
She didn't feel like one of the new ones, the youngest of the Passed, but rather, like her own story and experiences somehow had connected with the story of the Firsters, for they too had been forced to make their way through the Wildern, a march that stretched all the way from the cave of Holopedia, to what was now Home.
And, she thought, by sharing experiences with the very first humans of Nuhome she was, by extension, connected to what came before the Firsters – she being the current heir of a long lineage of human experience.
Maybe it is not I that have jumped to the left or right, she thought. But the Firsters, and the ones before them, that jumped onto here and now, through me.
"The Order of Things" – Lupina Ojala
She missed him immensely. Two days had passed since he had left, two long and terrible days. Linus was her own flesh and blood, her only son, and now he was gone.
It was inevitable, of course. All of the young ones left sooner or later. Some of them returned to the community after a couple of weeks or sometimes after as long as a year, disappointed that they hadn't made great discoveries or found a better place to live. At least they brought home some good stories to tell their friends and families during the dark and rainy evenings. Others disappeared for good, leaving worried parents and sometimes even grandparents behind. The average life expectancy for the inhabitants in the out-lying communities was low. Mainly they lived on scraps, dumped from within the city walls. The monstrous city was their mother, and her huge piles of trash, the placenta. She was not a loving mother, but she was all they had.
Every day the Outskirters searched the dumping grounds for hidden treasures – food, clothing, electronics, anything that could be mended and somehow put to use. On days when the wind came blowing from the north, its stench drowned the community – their community, Serenity. Why such a mismatched name had been chosen was a mystery. Perhaps peace and tranquility had been what its founders had been hoping for when settling there. No one could remember.
There were other communities scattered around the city. Each one had claimed one of the city dumps for itself, and the territories, once marked, were well respected. The hardships outside the walls were more than enough to deal with, even without any discord between the communities.
Ida sighed and drew her fingers through her cropped, brown hair. It hadn't been an ideal place to bring up a child, but her only other alternative had been even worse. At least people out here stuck together and helped each other when needed. Of course, not everyone had good intentions, but those were few and often quickly dealt with. The people's justice was the only law around here.
The blaring signal of the work bell disrupted her thoughts, calling her to her shift. Time to go. She looked around the little room she had shared with Linus since his birth. There was no way she would be allowed to keep it now. She would have to move out and live in one of the dormitories instead. And she wasn't looking forward to that. Tiny as it was, this room was her haven. She could close the door behind her and get a bit of much-needed privacy now and then.
An annoying memory tugged at her. Large, spacious halls, exquisite haute couture and soft, perfumed skin. She pushed it away. She would not let that haunt her. Not now. She needed to hurry to work. With one more glance back into her room – their room – she closed the door behind her.
Today she was on guard duty. Usually there wasn't too much hard work, an occasional stray android looking for electricity and spare parts or a strolling gang of youngsters from a nearby community looking for food and supplies. The last thought brought her back to Linus. The feeling of loss washed over her once more. The best she could hope for was that the pain would soften with time.
At the armory the man in charge nodded at her, signed her name and handed her an old-fashioned hunting rifle, designed for leisure rather than self-defense. Whatever the original purpose, its shots were lethal, and that was what mattered. Ida accepted the gun and left with a grunt of acknowledgement. She had never been skilled at small talk.
Passing the elevator, she remembered how hard it had been for her to get used to the fact that it didn't work. For months she had kept pressing the button, waiting for a ride, sparking amused commentary from her new friends. The amount of electricity the community windmills managed to produce was just not enough for that kind of unnecessary luxury – nor any other luxury, for that matter. Some habits had been harder to break than others.
She raced down the stairs, and a couple of minutes later she was out in the open. Without slowing her pace she jumped a low fence and headed down the quickest route to her assigned post. Erik, her partner for the day, was already there waiting. He was carrying a rifle similar to hers, though his was in better condition. The best guns were always handed out first, so you had to be quick to get one. The oldest ones weren't reliable. Often they didn't fire at all, but that wasn't their biggest fault. Every so often they would backfire, killing the poor gunner, leaving nothing behind but a smoking pile of burnt flesh. Fortunately the occasions when they needed to put any of the guns to real use were rare.
Ida walked beside her partner in silence as they moved towards the windmills. Sabotage was still a threat, despite the fact that they had lived in peace with their neighbors for years. You could never become too confident. Things could change fast and without electricity the village would become easy prey. Their guns, in whatever condition, would be useless without the possibility of recharging, and Serenity would stand totally defenseless to any intruder who wished to take what little they had.
An android, designed as a male, was lying on his back near the windmills. His body was straight and stiff, his dark brown eyes staring, unseeing, into the gray skies. It had been there for years, but it still gave her the chills. It looked so human, though a human body would have decayed by now. Instead it was in perfect condition, giving the impression it would rise any minute and resume its given tasks.
"You still feel sorry for those?" Erik nodded towards the android.
Ida shrugged her shoulders.
"Makes me feel uneasy, that's all."
"Can't be many of them still functioning. It's been more than 25 years since the Android Uprising when they were banned and chased out of the city." His gaze rested on her, and she knew what was coming.
"You grew up inside the city walls. You must remember something from those events."
"I was only a child," she answered sharply, bracing herself for a long and tedious questioning.
Erik never missed an opportunity to fish for information about her past. Everyone who lived in the communities surrounding the City wanted to get inside, and occasionally invitations for a specific number of people were sent. The communities that were lucky enough to have been chosen usually arranged a lottery system where the winners' life-long dreams came true. No one who entered the City had ever come out again, and why should they? Who would be insane enough to leave such comforts to live here in
these dilapidated buildings, in the almost constant rain? Who, but Ida?
She knew of no one else who had ever been inside. Luckily, not too many knew her secret, and she was grateful that Erik kept quiet about it. Still, the mystery of why she once had made the decision to leave was far too intriguing for him to leave it be completely. He wanted to know the full story, and it had become a game between them-him chasing for information, Ida avoiding direct answers. This time, to Ida's surprise, he dropped the subject almost immediately. He had another question of a more delicate nature on his mind.
"I know it might be a bit too soon to mention this but ... Well, if I don't ask now it might be too late."
Ida looked at him, puzzled by his change of tone. He spoke in a soft, low voice so unlike him that she immediately put up her guard. She said nothing, waiting for him to continue.
"I'll get straight at it. How about you and I hook up? We've known each other for years, and now that your boy's gone, you must be as lonely as I am."
He didn't look at her while speaking.
Ida wasn't stupid. This wasn't a sudden burst of romantic feelings. Erik was looking forward to the prospect of getting a private room. Though shared with her, it would allow him a lot more privacy than he had ever had access to. Only families and couples had a chance of getting a room of their own, and even a cramped space like Ida's was coveted.
"I'll think about it," was all she said.
Nothing more on the matter was mentioned during the rest of their shift. In fact, neither of them said much at all until they were relieved from their duties by another pair of guards.
As Ida hurried back home, she decided to put aside all thoughts of Linus and Erik. Instead she focused on basic matters, such as today's dinner. Her stomach growled. She could only hope that something had been caught in her hidden trap.
The drizzle turned into hard rain just as she reached the main entrance of her building. The hallway on the bottom floor was crowded as always. Lack of social gathering spaces made halls and stairs the only somewhat comfortable places to meet other people. Due to constant shift work there were always a certain number of people asleep, thus ruling out the dormitories as potential lounges.
The buzz of buying and selling was continuous in this area. Ida knew better than to get involved. As a newcomer she had had some stuff to trade. Her older brother had packed some useful items for her before helping her get through the wall. Out here they were of great value. Much greater than she had realized at the time.
Linus had been an infant and to keep him warm during cold and damp nights she had traded her datapad for a radioisotope generator. The trade had been no loss for her. She knew that Nils had packed it only to be able to keep track of her. It was something she wanted to get rid of, but afterwards she wished that she had spent her tradables more wisely.
"As good as new," the merchant had told her when she had shown an interest in the generator. He was clearly lying but, since the average life span of these generators was thirty years, she decided to buy it anyway. Her father had made her and her brother study basic engineering from an early age, something she now was grateful for. There was an old heater in her quarters, and she was confident she could make it work. Back in her room she plugged in the generator, and it worked all right – until the next morning that is. She found the salesman to confront him, but he shrugged his shoulders.
"Not my problem. I told you it worked when I sold it and it did."
There was nothing she could do about it. Angry at herself for being such a fool, she had learned to be more wary when dealing with his kind. Life outside the walls was very different from what she had been used to, but she had adapted to her new way of life quickly – she had no choice. Later she found out that the salesman had rigged the generator to a less valuable energy source inside it to prove to his customers it worked. It had been totally depleted when she got her hands on it. No wonder the thing didn't even last a whole night. But all of that was history now. It had been a good first lesson on how to get by in the real world.
By now she had passed the crowded business area and was on her way downstairs, holding a flashlight in her left hand. Not many people entered the underground floors, partially covered in water as they were. A sickly gray mold grew on the walls, and there was a constant dripping of water. The eeriness of these deserted rooms was not the worst part. It was the countless insects that lived down here that she dreaded most. Rumor had it that in the not-too-distant past this land had been dry and cold, with hardly any insects at all. Perhaps it was just a rumor, like so many other stories circulating.
She did her best to keep her mind occupied while hurrying down the corridor, her heavy boots wading in dirty water. She rounded a corner and stopped to open a hatch in the wall. It had probably been part of an air conditioning system back in the days when these buildings were still properly maintained. Whenever that might have been.
She shined her flashlight into the space inside, eager to see if she had been lucky enough to catch something. The rats in this area were fat enough to make a nice meal. They were always able to find food, even when the humans couldn't.
Her breath stopped halfway through an inhale. There was nothing in there. Nothing. Not even her trap. Someone must have found it and stolen whatever was in there, together with the trap itself. She bit her lip, trying not to scream out loud. She could not afford a new one. A nice greasy rat, grilled over an open fire should have been her dinner. Instead, she had to settle with what the community kitchen provided. Some days it was quite good; others, it was hardly edible. It all depended on whether the food collectors had a lucky day at the city dump or not.
Even after all these years living in Serenity, she was astonished at how well the cooperation worked. It was out of sheer necessity, she concluded. They all needed each other. Stealing and cheating was something she had experienced herself, but still it wasn't very common. The members of the community looked after each other like a gigantic family. A very strange family with rules she had learned the hard way. But Ida was the kind of person who never could stay angry for long. With or without that trap she would get along just fine. Besides, her looter was probably in greater need than she was herself.
Ida slammed the hatch close and sloshed her way back to return to dryer grounds. In the main corridor the daily news from within the City had just begun. She stopped in front of one of the public screens to take a quick look. It was the usual propaganda about the prospering City, filled with nothing but happiness and joy. Information available outside the City was limited. News of importance was either withheld or sanitized. To her surprise, people out here had no idea of how controlled their perceptions of the City actually were. They believed the news they saw was real, not just broadcasts especially composed for them, with little connection to actual events.
After a short reminder of the natural order of things, backed up with scientific evidence stating that some bloodlines are of much greater value than others, the big news for the day was revealed by a smiling, well-dressed and very well-fed lady.
"Those at the very top of human evolution must always stay humble and generous," the newscaster continued in the same, cheery voice. "Therefore our leaders have decided to welcome two hundred people from the outside into our beautiful City."
Everyone drew in a collective breath. This time Serenity might be chosen. The well-dressed lady disappeared from the screen and was replaced by a sleek host and his glamorous hostess. Bright lights flashed next to a screen in the middle of a stage, where the name of the chosen community would be revealed. Everyone took a step closer to better see. Ida escaped the crowd and returned to her quarters. She couldn't stand the false hope and joy the news had awoken.
Ida knew all wasn't golden inside those city walls. Without androids taking care of the maintenance for all the electronic and digital systems, things barely functioned anymore. The humans had relied on androids for so long that they themselves had not kept pace with the progress ma
de by their artificial counterparts, and their skills had grown far beyond anything a human brain could produce. For years they had developed all the technology in the City, including themselves. With a growing consciousness they one day no longer wished to be slaves; they wanted to be treated as equals. In a way, their protests had been inevitable. What was strange was that no one had foreseen it.
Ida always claimed not to remember anything of those events, but the truth was that she remembered it all very well. Her parents had always been very respectful to their own household servants, and Ida had been too young to understand that they were not human. She had been seven years old the day the android workers began their peaceful march through the city, asking for the same rights as humans.
The citizens were suddenly panic-stricken with fear of their former servants, and a mass slaughter took place. The only reason for the humans' victory was the ancient safety rule that was part of every standard program since the very first humanoid robots had been built: No robot could injure a human being or allow a human being to come to harm.
Totally defenseless, they were wiped out of existence. At the time Ida hadn't understood why. The city security shot them down, showing no mercy.
The events came to be called the Android Uprising, implying they had been violent, though, in fact, only humans had used force. For seven days the destruction continued. And then it was over. Without the ability to defend themselves, the androids never stood a chance. Many of them managed to escape, hiding in the woods. They had been smart enough to create secret escape routes, knowing what their masters were capable of.
Though she was only a child, she had understood that there was something terrible about what the people in the City had done. She was too young to put words to it, other than that she never wanted to become like them. And as the years passed, things got worse.