by A. W. Cross
“How do you know all this?”
“I…I talked to some survivors.”
When I was ten, I’d been playing on some old farming machinery when I’d fallen and sliced my arm. There was no pain at first, just the glistening brilliance of the open wound and a terrible clarity of how bad the pain would be once it started. I’d held my breath, believing that if I didn’t breathe, time wouldn’t move forward and I could stay suspended forever in that moment before the blood welled to the surface and brought agony.
All gone. My father. No. I couldn’t think of him. It was too much. If I stopped to think about it, I would die. So many days had passed, over eighteen hundred of them. How many people had lived in fear before dying in fear? How many had been born into darkness? The careful hope that had taken root in me since I’d woken up was curling inwards, withering and retreating. We went so long without speaking that the fire died in the hearth. I only spoke when I had a safe question to ask. “Why are we in this house?”
“They never came back for us. After a week, I managed to break the seal and go to the surface to have a look. I wanted to keep us moving, to keep us safe. If the wrong people had found any record of those bunkers, we’d have been sitting ducks. Plus, they were only stocked for the short-term.”
Sitting ducks. Like the people who hadn’t chosen a side. Who, despite their personal beliefs about artilects and cyborgs, simply wanted to live normal lives. People like my father.
I couldn’t wait any longer. “I had a father,” I said in a rush.
His chest expanded. “Ailith.” The softness of his voice told me my father was dead.
“You don’t know, though, do you?” How could he, when we’d slept through it?
“No, I don’t. But, Ailith, it’s been five years. It’s… There’s almost nobody left.”
“Yes, but how do you know? Maybe it’s only this part of the country. Maybe he found other survivors, and he’s starting over with them.”
He was silent.
I tried a different approach. “What about you? Didn’t you have a family?”
“I did,” he said, his voice tight. “A mother.” The way he said it, I knew she was dead. But there was something else, a dullness to his tone. His grief was old, blunted. All of a sudden, I was cold. “You never talked to any survivors, did you?”
The muscles rippled in his jaw. “Yes, but—”
“Tor, how long have you been awake?”
“Ailith…” He paused. “I never went to sleep.” He said it gently, as though the truth would hurt me. It did.
“Why not? Did something go wrong?”
“You were already in stasis when they took us to the bunker. They said you were too important for both of us to go to sleep.” He held up a hand before I could ask. “I don’t know what they meant by that. They took us to the bunker and told me to stay put until they retrieved us.”
For five years, he’d watched over me, a stranger, just because another stranger had told him to. He’d guarded me and waited for the end—any end—to come. That was why he felt so familiar. For five years, he’d protected me.
Something occurred then to me that was completely irrational, given the circumstances. Is this the beginning of my nervous breakdown? “You’ve seen me naked.” It was hard to keep the accusatory tone from my voice.
A puff of air gusted against my scalp as he laughed. “Yes. I’ve seen you naked.” I stiffened away from him, which only made his shoulders shake harder. “Look, would you rather I’d left you in the same underwear for five years?”
I couldn’t argue with that.
“What did I eat? How did I go to the bathroom?”
“You didn’t. Nothing went in, nothing came out. You were just…frozen. I don’t even think you aged.”
“So why am I awake now?”
“I don’t know. About two weeks ago, you started to move. Tiny movements. A finger one day, a toe the next. Then, last week, you began having seizures. And that’s when I strapped you down.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
He didn’t laugh again.
He pulled away from me, the mattress springing up as he stood. Cold air slammed into my back. “I need to get the fire going again.”
“What did you see? For you to know what happened, what did you see?” I called after him. He didn’t answer, so I followed him.
He was kneeling in front of the hearth, striking something together. He avoided my gaze.
“Are there others? Like us?”
This time he looked at me. “I have no idea. I am sure there were. As to whether there still are...”
The room began to spin again. It was too much for me to take in. What if this was a dream, like the other dreams? They were more real than this.
What do I do?
Survive , a voice inside me whispered, pushing back the part that needed to scream, to fall apart and be forever undone. I focused on Tor, the cut of his face in the glow of his fledgling fire. My hands ached to wrap themselves in his hair, to twist it around my fingers and hold together the pieces of my broken heart.
In less than a heartbeat, I was beside him. “Tor—”
He lifted his eyes to mine. Kneeling, his face was level with my stomach. I pulled him in, pressing him against me. He didn’t resist, and as he wrapped his arms around me, his breath flared quick and hot through the fabric of my shirt.
I would’ve cried then, had there not been a sudden scratching at the door.
“Why is it that our first instinct when creating a being in our own image is to either screw it or kill it?”
—Emily Fraser-Herondale, Of Gods and Monsters: The Rise of Artificial Intelligence
The day they announced the winner, I couldn’t stop looking at my watch. It was going to be me. I had hoped so hard it had to happen. I wiped my slick palms on the calves of my trousers, where nobody would see.
And finally, it was time. After careful consideration and weeks of testing and observation, they’d chosen the most successful candidate for the job. And it was me; it was actually me. I couldn’t believe it. I’d only been working at Pantheon Modern for three weeks when they announced the contest.
Of course, we all wanted to win it. Why else work at a corporation like Pantheon Modern if we didn’t want to become cyborgs ourselves, to help usher in a new age from the front lines? The company wanted someone who would best represent them, and that person was me.
The heat from many hands burned through the thin fabric of my shirt. Everyone acted glad for me, though of course they wished they’d been chosen instead.
They gave us the rest of the day off to celebrate or commiserate. The guys were going to take me out, somewhere special. I’d heard some of them whispering about it in their cubicles when they believed no one was listening. I’d never been invited to join them until today.
It was called Pris, a place where you bought sex. And not just any sex—sex with androids. I couldn’t have gone with them before, even if I’d been invited. Not on a junior exec’s salary. But that night, they were treating me, no expenses spared.
We drank champagne in the limo on the way, flicking through the brothel’s menu. Sid swiped through the images, barely glancing at the screen. He’d been there a few times; he was going to help me choose.
“Had her. And her. And her. And him. And him. And her.”
“It might be faster if you showed him the ones you haven’t had,” Jal said. He was a junior like me, but his family was rich. This wasn’t his first time either. “He probably doesn’t want your sloppy seconds.”
My face burned, but I laughed along with them. Nerves made my palms sweat again. It wasn’t so much the sex; I’d had sex before. But I’d never had sex with an android. Or paid for it, for that matter.
Julie had stopped by my desk on her way out. Those who weren’t coming with us wanted to have their own celebration. I’d almost wished I was going with them instead.
“Are you actually going to do it?” she’d asked.
<
br /> “Do what?” I’d hoped she wasn’t aware of what we were up to. I’d liked Julie ever since I’d started working at Pantheon Modern, and having the chick you liked realize you’re going off to bang another one wasn’t the best way to start a relationship.
“Oh, please,” she’d said, her mouth twisted up on one side. “You know exactly what I mean.”
“Yes.” Why deny it when she already knew?
“Don’t you think it’s a bit wrong?”
“No. Why would it be? They’re only providing a service.”
“Are they? Or are they just being provided?”
I wasn’t sure what she’d meant, which must’ve been obvious. She’d rolled her eyes and stalked off, her heels clicking angrily on the glossy floor.
I never would’ve guessed what Pris was from the outside; it echoed every other steel-gray granite building on the block, its name set above the double-doors in wrought bronze. I studied the man on the door, trying to decide whether he was human or not.
He caught me looking and smirked. “Sorry, son, I’m not for sale.”
The guys whooped with laughter.
“Don’t blow your load before we even walk through the door,” Sid joked.
I hadn’t thought it possible to blush any harder; I was wrong.
Inside, a human hostess led us to a long couch, her red-tipped fingers gesturing with a flourish for us to sit. She bent low from the waist, her corset offering her breasts to Sid like plums on a plate as she handed him the drinks menu. Once we each had a glass in our hands, the hostess returned, leading a group of women and men dressed in lingerie. I couldn’t decide if they looked more or less human than I’d imagined they would.
My drink was gone in three gulps. Another one immediately appeared in my hand, deposited by the smiling hostess. The guys were looking at the androids, discussing their different attributes with each other.
They were stunning, each one more exotic than the last. I hadn’t known that women—or men, for that matter—looked like that, or smelled like that either. Their different scents mingled with each other in the air: vanilla, musk, leather. They stared straight ahead, their arms at their sides.
They were way out of my league. I wasn’t bad looking, but I had a blond-haired, blue-eyed scruffy look that made me seem a lot younger than I was.
What if I couldn’t get it up?
I cringed inside. I’d never live that down.
Jal elbowed me in the ribs. “You look a little worried, mate.”
“No, I uh…there’s so many choices.”
“Look.” His voice dropped to a whisper too quiet for the others to hear. “They’re not alive. They’re machines. I know they look human, but it’s an illusion. Look closer. They’re basically glorified sex dolls. Don’t worry about it.”
I took his advice and scrutinized them. Jal was right. They stood stiffly, unmoving and unblinking. Everything about them was too perfect. I searched for a hint of resentment on their faces and found nothing but the blankness of a machine.
I could do this.
“Hurry up and choose already. The rest of us are waiting.”
I called the hostess over, then pointed to a woman on the far right. She was attractive, but not inaccessibly so. She had a kind of girl-next-door look. In fact, she resembled Julie, with her long red hair and a smattering of freckles on her pearly skin. Her body was petite, her breasts small and pointed through the gauzy film of jade chiffon.
When I got closer to her, I caught a trace of antiseptic under her apple-pie scent, which almost made me lose my nerve. She led me down the unadorned hallway and into a room, where she closed the door behind us. The room was decorated to complement her, a young woman’s bedroom: ivory and sea-green wallpaper, mounds of pillows, a vanity with a variety of powders and perfumes. How much of it was for show? I pictured her sitting on the small stool, combing her hair, looking anxiously in the mirror to make sure her makeup was just right.
“Do you sleep here?” I asked her. No one had ever accused me of being an impressive conversationalist.
“You are very handsome,” she replied, ignoring my question.
“Uh…thanks. You too. I mean, you’re very beautiful.”
“Would you like me to take my clothes off?” She pinched the ribbons of her negligee between her flawlessly manicured fingers.
“Don’t you want to talk a bit first? What’s your name?”
“Do you not like me?”
“What? Yes, of course, I do. I just—”
“Do you want me to take my clothes off?” Her guileless green eyes were wide.
“Um, ok. Yes, please.”
She watched my face as she untied her translucent robe and let it slip from her shoulders to the floor.
Her body was symmetrical, with none of the imperfections of the women I’d been with before, who always seemed to have one breast larger than the other, or a mole in an awkward place. She was smooth and completely hairless except for her neatly trimmed triangle.
“Do you want me to take your clothes off?” she inquired.
“No. No, I can do it myself, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I stripped, fumbling with the buttons on my shirt. Usually, when I found myself in this situation, I was clumsy because I was rushing and trying to make out with the girl at the same time, unable to keep my hands off her. Her arms remained stiffly at her sides. Once I was naked, we stood facing each other.
“What would you like me to do?” she asked.
“I, uh, what would you like to do?”
“I would like to please you.”
I didn’t know what to say. Somehow, the idea of asking her to drop to her knees and suck me off seemed degrading.
“Lie down on the bed, I guess.”
She followed my instructions, lying down in the center of the generous mattress. “Like this?”
“Yes.” I was growing hard at the sight of her now, lying on the silky sheets, waiting for me. Willing to do whatever I wanted. And right then, I wanted to celebrate. No pretenses. It was all about me.
“Spread your legs,” I commanded, and she did.
After I was done, I pulled out of her, not looking at the mess I’d made. I wasn’t sure whether to cuddle her or not. She got off the bed and stood in the center of the room, my semen smeared down one of her thighs.
“Was I satisfactory?” she asked.
“Yes, thank you. Was it okay for you?”
“You are very handsome,” she repeated and blinked.
“The only way to ensure, beyond a doubt, that our species will survive is to propagate ourselves into a form that’s more capable of adapting, of surviving, than ourselves. As a species, we’ve already reached our full potential. Our constant need to war over resources and religion, our inability to extend to all members of our own species even the most basic right to life, and the means by which to support that life, proves that our time as a flourishing species is over.”
—Robin Leung, CEO of Novus Corporation, 2039
The knife left his hand before I even knew he’d lifted it. End over end it spun, faster than a human eye could see, than a human arm could throw, a dark blur through the gray air. The knife caught me off guard; he normally wielded a crossbow. His breath slid up the bare skin of my neck, causing a ripple down my spine. My pants were crisp with the cold, but I was too wired with anticipation to feel the chill.
His knife skewered the hare through the heart, pinning it to the ground. I finally exhaled. We’d been kneeling in the skeletal forest for hours, waiting for something edible to walk by. The waiting itself was boring, since Tor wasn’t the talkative type, but there wasn’t much else to do. He didn’t want me exploring on my own, and I had too much sense to rebel for the sake of it—although, if I was being honest, it was because I was afraid of what I might see.
The blood reminded me of the last vision I’d had, the cascade of crimson hair down her back. It hadn’t hit me as hard as the othe
rs. I hadn’t gone blind, at least. Whatever the visions were, I was beginning to gain some control over them.
What are they? I tried not to think of the vacancy on the android’s face as I thrust myself into her, over and over, her hair rasping against the brocade pillow. Since then, I’d caught only wisps of images from the threads, like seeing something on the edge of my vision, only for it to be gone when I finally looked.
“Remind me where we are, again,” I asked as he brushed past me to retrieve the warm body of the hare, his breath cloudy in the cold air.
“The Kootenays.”
It was warmer today than it had been since I’d woken up just over a week ago, but the mountain air was still biting. I couldn’t remember if I’d ever been to the Kootenays before.
“Okay, but where in the Kootenays?”
Tor paused, chewing on his lower lip. “The map says we’re near a city called Redcot. Ever been there?”
“No. You?”
“Nope. I’d never gone farther than the Lower Mainland. I guess that’s one good thing about the apocalypse: it’s gotten me to travel.”
Tor’s plan was for us to stay put for the next few weeks, and then…then we’d see. He was determined to avoid other people as much as possible. He wouldn’t say why, only that people had, and yet hadn’t, changed since the war. If what he’d told me was true, the risk of others finding us was small. Still, he wanted to be cautious.
We’d settled into a comfortable routine that centered around finding things to eat, and eating them, something I needed to do now that I was awake. I’d also found some books under the layers of dust as we’d made ourselves at home and had taken to reading aloud to Tor in the evenings, cross-legged and squinting in front of the fire.
I wasn’t as keen to stay here as he was. Though it was unlikely, a small part of me wondered if my father could still be alive. But we were far from where I’d lived in the Okanagan in the south of the province, and I wasn’t ready to make that journey myself. I was sure that, given a bit more time, I could convince Tor to come with me.