The Seeds of Winter

by A. W. Cross

  —Robin Leung, CEO of Novus Corporation, 2039

  I must’ve been dreaming, if I could dream. She ran across an endless field, the sky open and clear. She was only a child, clutching the end of my leash in her tiny fist as her slight body cut through the long grass like an arrow. I was trapped in a metal cage, my arms and legs trailing uselessly as she pulled me along. She’d tied ribbons to me to make me less frightening, but I was the frightened one. And yet, I would’ve followed her anywhere.

  We raced toward the tree, always our destination. It took us a long time—when we reached it, she was a woman grown. He was waiting by the tree for her, as always. My body became tangled in the branches; I couldn’t set myself free. She would come for me. She always did. I wanted to warn her about the bark—her skin was fragile and easily damaged—but I was too late, and her skin peeled away. She ignored the blood and reached for me, her fingers trembling.

  She wasn’t gentle. When she caught hold of me at last, she squeezed, too hard. I cried out, but my voice was gone. All that came was a gust of wind, blowing gently through her hair. We climbed back down and, as always, he was gone. Where did he go? Why didn’t he wait longer for us? She lay on the ground, her face pressed into the dirt. I was forgotten, propped up against the base of the tree. The infinite field became my only horizon as I waited for her to return. As always.

  “I know many of you believe that by enhancing humans with robotic and artilectual components, we feel we are creating gods. Let me assure you, this is false. The purpose, the sole purpose, of creating true cyborgs is to follow the natural and logical progression of the human race. Both the Terrans and the Cosmists must be satisfied; the Terrans because our humanity will not be replaced, and the Cosmists because we are conveying the human race far beyond its expected potential.”

  —Lexa Gillet, Pantheon Modern Cyborg Symposium, 2040

  I vomited. My stomach had always been a coward. “They’re gone. I couldn’t stop them. They’re just…gone.”

  “Ailith, who’s gone? I don’t—”

  “The others. Like us. The ones who are home. They burned themselves alive.” My voice sounded muffled in my ears, as though I was far underground. “Tor, we need to go home.”

  “If people are killing themselves there, perhaps we shouldn’t be trying to find it.” His mouth was a thin line. I was proving his suspicions right.

  “No. You don’t understand.” I gave up. I couldn’t explain it to him. Not in a way he’d comprehend. Not yet.

  “Ailith, look, I’m not saying we won’t go to this home. I’m saying we need to be careful. One thing at a time. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  We’d gone only a few miles before I tired. My stamina wasn’t as augmented as Tor’s to begin with, and everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours pulled like a weight on my chest. But we couldn’t stop; we shouldn’t even slow down. We needed to travel as far as possible before it got even darker. Tor noticed me lagging behind and waited for me to catch up.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I—” The bunker. The visions. He was so excited about becoming a cyborg and so disgusted by what he’d become. She just wanted her parents to love her. Their loss was as deep as if I’d known them, not just been a passenger for brief moments of their lives.

  Tor fumbled in his pack for the map, pretending he didn’t see the tears threatening behind my eyes. As he studied it, a slow smile spread across his face.

  “How do you feel about a quick detour? A quick one. We need to rest, Ailith, or we won’t be any use to them by the time we get there,” he insisted as I opened my mouth to protest.

  I shut it. I was too tired to argue.

  Half an hour later, as the sky deepened from dark gray to black, Tor motioned for me to stand still while he disappeared down into the gloom. The air here was oddly humid; a fine mist wreathed the trees. Below, the orange glow of a fire flared into life. Tor returned a few minutes later.

  “Close your eyes.” He was obviously pleased with himself, a shy smile curving his mouth. We descended through the fog, the damp air thick and harder to breathe. It was also warm. I took a deeper breath and tasted minerals, and something else I couldn’t identify.

  “Stand here,” he instructed me.

  “What is this?” I couldn’t help smiling. It must be a good thing, and I needed a good thing right now.

  “Open your eyes.” He gestured grandly. “Your bath, madam.”

  It was a hot spring, a small pool of water heated naturally by the ground. I’d visited places like this on holiday when I was a child, staying up hours past bedtime to float on my back and count the stars. Those pools had been huge and commercial, entire towns built around them. Here there was nothing but rocks and steep cliff faces.

  I knew Tor was trying to make me feel better, but it was bittersweet. The last time I’d been to a hot spring, my entire family had still been alive.

  I dropped my pack. “I can’t believe no one’s holed up here. It seems pretty ideal, especially in this weather.”

  “I was wondering that myself. Maybe someone did. But, there’s definitely no one here now. Or recently, for that matter.”

  “It seems too good to be true,” I said warily.

  Tor laughed. “Enjoy yourself for a few minutes. You can worry again in an hour.”

  No arguments here. I stripped off my clothes as quickly as I could, my skin prickling with the cold.

  I slid into the water up to my neck, and a sudden, painful tingle gripped my entire body, squeezing my ribs and blocking my throat. Tor grabbed at his chest, the muscles in his neck taut with strain.

  “Tor?”

  As quickly as it had come, the sensation disappeared, leaving nothing but a gentle warmth in its wake.

  “Probably just the heat of the water after so long in the cold air,” I said.

  “Yeah. It caught me off guard.” He examined the surface of the water, as though he wasn’t convinced.

  This pool wasn’t quite as warm as I’d remembered, but it was warm enough to make my toes ache as they thawed. Sweat and grime dissolved from my skin as I floated; the tension in my muscles did not.

  Tor was right. I needed to enjoy myself, to have some kind of release. More than a hot bath offered. I’d seen the way he stared at me when I stepped into the water. He may have only gotten a peek, but he’d liked what he saw. Maybe it was a mistake, but right now, I needed something. Him. Besides, we might be dead tomorrow. Or the next day. Hell, no day in the foreseeable future looked good for us.

  I would have to make the first move—I knew Tor well enough now to realize that—but he wanted me. He looked at me too long, held his breath when I brushed against him. Said my name whenever he could and built our shelters way too small.

  I’m on to you.

  Tor had lowered himself onto one of the seats hewn into the rock around the pool. His head leaned back against the cold stone; his eyes were closed.

  Deep breath.

  I straddled him, my hands on either side of his head. He arched in surprise beneath me as I kissed his exposed throat, but didn’t protest.

  “Ailith—”

  I covered his lips with mine. He became hard beneath me, and I moaned against his mouth, urging him on, crushing the droplets of steam beading on his skin with my fingertips. He explored my body, slowly, against the resistance of the water.

  When his fingers finally found their way inside me, I was ready.

  “Tor.” My voice was a low feral sound I’d never heard before.

  He wrapped his hands around my waist and lifted me until my feet found purchase against the stone shelf. He spread me with his fingers and devoured me, licking and sucking until the rising flood inside me overflowed and I came. As I cried out, he drove his tongue deep inside me, coaxing me to another climax. I ground against his mouth, my hands buried in his hair.

  He raised himself out of the water to the worn stones at its edge, and in one swift motion lifted me on
to his lap. I wrapped my legs around his waist, sliding onto him and taking him inside me all at once. His body held more heat for me than the water, and I was warm for the first time since I’d woken up.

  A low groan rumbled from deep inside his throat as I rode him, his hands clutching at my hips, rocking himself deeper inside me. His fingers knotted in my hair, and he pressed our foreheads together as he came.

  To: [————-]

  From: [————-]

  July 30, 2040

  I can confirm that Pantheon Modern Corporation Cyborg Program Omega-117 has been a success. Confirmation of survival absolute. Recommend instigation of protocol Theta-626, effective immediately.

  Ji burst through the door, breathless, his face flushed. My anticipation was white sheets of paper, a blank screen. Hope, tiny green leaves pushing through the black soil to welcome the sun.

  “They’ve done it.” He gulped in air, shaking his head as his mother rose from her seat, her eyes flashing.

  “They’ve done what, exactly?” she asked, although she knew the answer as well as the rest of us.

  “Cyborgs. The true ones. And some of them survived.”

  We’d known this day was coming, yet all but myself were shocked. I was pleased, a bird soaring over a lake in the blazing sun, the iridescent scales on a fish as it twisted in the air to catch a fly. The color yellow. This was the beginning I’d been waiting for.

  Some of them were revolted. Like most Cosmists, they saw these cyborgs as an abomination, the corruption of a pure concept. Diluted gods. They’d tried everything in their power to prevent them from being created. Terrible things. And still they’d failed.

  Ethan spat on the floor. “What a fucking waste. All that time, money, effort. For fuck’s sake.” Stella put her hand on his arm, but he brushed her off. “Do you have any idea how much this will set us back? Wasted resources aside? We could be dead in the water.”

  Dead in the water. Floating on their backs, gray and bloated, their eyes eaten away.

  “Maybe it won’t. Maybe it’ll be a good thing for us,” Stella said.

  “Really, Stella? Really? What in fuck makes you think this could ever be a good thing?”

  Stella usually remained silent when Ethan shouted at her. She glanced at me, and I smiled, hoping it would give her courage. It did.

  “Why do you assume they’ll be against us? Maybe they’ll stand with us. They’ll act as a bridge, making it easier for us to do what we’re doing. And if everything does go to shit, think what effective soldiers they’d make. All that power, which we could control.”

  “Yes, all that power used against us. Why would you believe they’ll choose a side? They’ll be their own side, using their power against us to preserve themselves. They will destroy us. Cyborgs don’t want us to create artilects any more than the Terrans do; it would knock them lower on the food chain. And as for cyborgs being effective soldiers? Seriously? Soldiers with the power of artilects but with the ability to make their own choices? You want efficient killers? Then we keep trying to build artilects. Fuck!”

  A long pause followed his declaration. Everyone was staring at me.

  “What do you think?” Stella asked.

  “I think it’s wonderful,” I replied honestly. “I can’t wait to meet them.”

  I didn’t feel the same way most of them did about artilects. While I shared their desire to create life, I didn’t believe that artilects were akin to gods. Nor were their creators. But to Ethan, and many of the others, that was their gospel, their religion. Creating a fully sentient artilect was their opus, their way of ensuring their immortality not only on this earth, but across the galaxy.

  And like others before them, they would crush those who stood in their way.

  I didn’t agree with him, but I understood his bitterness at being so close to everything he’d ever wanted.

  Bitterness. Marigold petals. A heaviness at the back of my throat.

  “Meet them? Christ.” Ethan covered his face with his hands. “We’re not going to meet them. We’re going to find a way to destroy them. We can’t let them live.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why? Haven’t you been listening? They threaten everything we’ve been working toward. It took us ten years longer than it should have to get where we are. Not only did they suck up valuable resources, but they’ve also freaked everybody the fuck out. It wasn’t so bad, an artificial leg here, a plastic heart there, but that’s not what these cyborgs are. They look human, but every cell, every goddamn cell in their body’s been cyberized. Do you know what that makes them?”

  I did. I knew very well.

  “Don’t speak to Fane like that!” Lien approached Ethan, her eyes blazing.

  “Lien, he needs to understand. They threaten us by their very existence. And aside from that, they’re disgusting.”

  Disgusting. Maggots crawling over the body of a dead kitten. A finger breaking through the skin of an overripe fruit.

  “I do understand. The cyborgs will survive.”

  “Not if we have anything to do with it, they won’t. In fact, it’s time we started on Plan B.” With a last shake of his head, Ethan turned on his heel and left the room.

  The others filed after him.

  Only Lien remained. She put her hand on my arm. “Ignore him. He’s angry because he wanted more for us.”

  I didn’t think it was that simple; there was more to it than that. Something more dangerous. A very great height, a dark alley. A broken heart.

  Plan B was a secret. They kept things from me; they didn’t trust me. But whatever Plan B was, it wouldn’t be good. Someone would die. Someone always died.

  Lien appraised my face in a way I didn’t like. Hands fisting in my hair. Something crawling over my skin. Arms trying to cover my shame. They’d been getting longer, these looks. Most of them looked at me like that.

  Her fingers were papery, dry. They made me want to peel off my own skin, to become someone else.

  I shrank away from her without meaning to, and I was sorry as soon as I did. They needed to be on my side right now. Especially her.

  Her eyes narrowed, but she let it pass. She believed I was disturbed by what Ethan had said. She was right. She gave me a last long stare then left the room.

  I traced the shape of tiny leaves on my palm. Maybe these new cyborgs would help me, or maybe they would be afraid of me, of what I represented to them. I hoped not. I wanted them to like me.

  Something was coming, teasing me from somewhere inside my own brain. It was like wind rushing around me. A vast, emerald sea.

  “In the same week as global legislation banned the creation of artilects, just weeks before Novus Corporation was scheduled to create the first true artilect, millions of machines around the world have been malfunctioning. Is it a passive-aggressive sulk triggered by their creators, a silent protest of the ban? Or is it, as some conspiracy theorists have suggested, something more sinister?”

  —Shirley Novak, CNN Tech Watch, 2040

  I woke up as the sky lightened into rose-quartz gray. Wisps of images still clung to me.

  White paper. Marigold petals. The endless green field.

  I’d been asleep for only a few hours, Tor less than that. He’d watched me for a while after he’d thought I’d gone to sleep.

  But, between the tiny amount of sleep I’d managed and the physical release of sex in general, and with Tor in particular, I was revitalized. He still slept, more deeply than I’d ever seen him.

  “Pax? Can you hear me?”

  “Ailith? Are you here?”

  “No, but we’re close. But we couldn’t convince Oliver to come with us, Pax.”

  “He has to be here.”

  “I know, but—”

  The reason this hot spring had been abandoned was clear at last.

  What I’d believed to be rocks were, in fact, corpses.

  Many of them, human and animal, radiating out from around the pool.

  I bit the b
ack of my hand so I wouldn’t scream.

  “Ailith? Ailith! Ai—”

  “Tor!” I gave his shoulder a violent shake. In seconds, he was awake and on his feet, the hunter in him ready to fight.

  “Ailith? Are you okay?”

  Wordlessly, I pointed at the spread of bodies.

  Tor inhaled sharply, his eyes wide. He walked over to the carcass closest to him, a tiny caribou calf, and knelt beside it. As he ran his hands over its body, the pressure of his fingers shifted the frail bones beneath its molting pelt. Finding nothing, he peered into its eyes and mouth.

  “What the hell happened?” I asked, my voice wavering.

  Tor’s voice was steady. “The water. Remember the sensation when we first got in? That’s why no one lives here. The water must be poisoned with something you wouldn’t even have to drink. I should’ve known. It’s an old trick.”

  “How can you be so calm?” I hated the sharp edge of hysteria in my voice. “We could’ve died!”

  Tor shook his head. “I don’t think we were ever in any real danger. And I’m not calm.” It was true; his hands were trembling. “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Well, I’m better off than them.” An insane urge to giggle bubbled up inside me “I can’t imagine rabbits drinking from hot springs.”

  “Hares. And I don’t think they did.” Tor scraped up some of the dirt around the pool and rubbed it between his fingers. “I think the ground’s been poisoned. The hares and caribou ate whatever plants they found, and everything else ate them.”

  “What about those people?” I asked, pointing at the huddle of human corpses. Without the interference of insects, their skin had desiccated into thick leather kept supple by the steam. It clung to their bones and bared their teeth to the cold air. Their eyes stared blankly at the sky, the whites black and shriveled.