by A. W. Cross
“I understand.” And I did. “Tor, I would never—”
“I know. That’s what I meant. We’ve known each other for a long time, even though you’ve only been awake for a very small part of it. I trust you, Ailith. I don’t want anyone inside my head, but if there had to be someone, I would want it to be you. I know this… gift, isn’t something you asked for.”
“Thank you. I promise I’ll never do it again, not unless I absolutely have to. Like, if there’s only one piece of hare jerky left.” His silence worried me. “Tor, I was only joking, I won’t—”
“Ailith, I’m smiling.” He took my hand and pressed my fingers against his mouth. He was telling the truth. He also didn’t move my hand away.
Though we were in the dark, I closed my eyes and fanned out my fingers. The air in the shelter went still; he was holding his breath. He grabbed my hand and exhaled into my palm. His lips moved over my fingers, his teeth grazing the skin.
“Come here, Ailith.” His voice was low. As I leaned toward him, he worked his way up the inside of my arm, his mouth gentle. When he found my neck, it became harder, more insistent, and a fluttering warmth curled around my stomach. I could only gasp against his mouth when it finally covered mine, his hand sliding up my neck and into my hair and—
“Ailith? Ailith, can you hear me?”
The shock of Pax suddenly inside my head jerked me back. I crashed into the side of the shelter, and part of the wall collapsed, exposing our thin tent walls to the night air.
“Ailith? I’m sorry.” Tor drew away from me.
“No! Tor, it’s not you. It’s Pax. I can hear him again.”
“Now? Of all times? I don’t think I like this guy,” Tor muttered as he scrambled in the dark. “I’ll go put that wall back up before we’re eaten by wolves. Or bears. Or whatever other godforsaken monsters are roaming around in the dark.”
Was he joking? I followed him out of the remains of the shelter and walked a short distance.
“Pax? Are you okay? Is Cindra?”
“Yes. No. What do you mean by okay?”
“Well, you’re still alive, so that’s something.”
“They won’t kill us. Not on purpose, anyway.” His matter-of-factness chilled me.
“Pax, we’re on our way. I don’t know how far away we are. I can feel you, but…well, I haven’t been awake for that long, so I’m still not sure how to work my new self.”
“Have you met any of the others yet or just been inside them?”
“Others? Do you mean the visions I’ve been having? They’re cyborgs like us?”
“Didn’t you know?”
“No! I thought…I wasn’t sure what to think. How do you know who they are?”
“Some things I know. Have you met any of them?”
“What do you mean, you know?”
“There’s not time to explain to you now. Have you?”
I gave up. “Only Tor. As for the others, I can see what they see. Only, I’m not sure if it’s their past or their present, or if it’s even real.”
“Yes, to all of it. Tor, the Knife. Is he with you?”
“You know Tor? Yes, he’s with me.”
“Good.” The relief in his voice was palpable. “This is good. This is how it’s supposed to be.”
“What? What does that mean?”
“I’ll explain later. Please hurry. I’m not sure how much longer Cindra can last.”
“Pax? What do you mean?” But he was gone.
I relayed what he’d said to Tor. “He knows who you are. And he says the visions I’m seeing aren’t random. They’re other cyborgs.”
He rubbed his knuckles. “Do we actually think we can trust this guy?”
“Honestly? I’m not sure,” I said. “I hope so. What do you suppose he meant when he said, ‘this is how it’s supposed to be?’”
“I don’t know. That’s the part I don’t like.”
“So the murderous Terrans don’t bother you?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Of course they do. But I’m more worried about what happens if we make it out of this rescue alive. Call me an optimist.”
I rolled my eyes, but, of course, it was too dark for him to see. He ducked back into the shelter, barely clearing the top of the entrance. Were we going to pick up where we’d left off? Was he thinking the same thing? If he was, a shyness lived between us now that hadn’t been there before.
As I leaned down to join Tor in the shelter, I again had the feeling of someone watching us. More than that, I could almost touch their mind. Almost. The thread connecting us slipped out of reach, like it was eluding me. It must be another cyborg, like Pax had said. It certainly didn’t feel dangerous. It was…familiar, like Tor had been. “Hello?”
“Ailith?”
Tell Tor you think someone is following us.
But when I opened my mouth to speak, I couldn’t quite focus on what I wanted to say. It crept beyond my awareness and disappeared.
No. Not tonight .
We’d find Pax and Cindra first then deal with whoever was stalking us. Perhaps they were observing us, trying to decide which side we were on. Fair enough. I would be cautious too, especially if I saw someone like Tor.
When I finally got into bed, Tor had fallen asleep. I listened to his slow, even breathing for a few minutes then curled up against him.
“We’d always known the beginning of the Second Coming would be preceded by signs, and that these signs would increase in both number and severity as the time drew near. The instability of the climate, the natural-food crisis, the growing hostilities between and within nations—these were all signs. And when the World Artificial Intelligence Summit finally gathered in Israel, we knew it had begun. The mass assassinations on the closing day confirmed this.”
—Celeste Steed, The Second Coming
I thrust harder as I came, gripping her hair with both hands. She choked at first, but then she took me in, all of me, her baby-blue eyes never leaving my face.
Good girl, Celeste.
I could get used to this. After she pulled away, I gathered her in my arms and held her. I wasn’t a monster, after all.
She was the one who’d found me, so she felt we had a special connection. Who was I to disagree, especially when she wanted to confirm it over and over? I had to say, I enjoyed my new life. Who wouldn’t want to be worshipped as a god?
When the Saints told me the war had been over for five years, I’d pretended to know exactly what they were talking about, but inside, I’d been raging. All that fucking work and pain to become one of the bastards who’d put me here. And now? I’d never collect. I’d have to wander in a post-apocalyptic shithole for all eternity…how long did a cyborg live, anyway?
But this…this was paradise. The Saints of Loving Grace may have been somewhat eccentric—they worshipped artificial intelligence, for one. And that whole thing where they tried to graft chunks of metal to themselves? Christ. But hey, they’d been waiting for their artilect Divine, and there I was.
Besides, who was to say I wasn’t divine in this new world? The odds of them coming across the bunker just as I was leaving it were spectacular. And it wasn’t like I’d told them I was an artilect. They’d come to that conclusion on their own. Sure, I may have helped them along, but I’d only led them where they already wanted to go.
They had no idea I was a cyborg. Why would they? Before word of the Pantheon Modern Omega Program had leaked, cyborgs were just people with biomechatronic parts. They’d never seen anything like me. I doubted the rumors about us had reached them before the war started.
Some mech had blasted the top of the bunker, but hadn’t managed to do much damage other than a slight warping of the door. I’d been finishing the job, covering my tracks, and nearly blowing off my fucking hand in the process.
They must’ve heard the explosion. When I’d seen them coming through the trees, I’d scooted under some of the rubble. I pushed my way out of the debris, covered in bl
ood, just in time to meet them.
The Saints had been terrified, dropping their little baskets and clutching at their chests. I told them I’d been attacked by the woman in the bunker, that I’d had to defend myself. It wasn’t a lie. I’d known what she was. If she hadn’t been going to kill me then, she would’ve done it the first opportunity she’d gotten. It was a shame, though, having to kill a woman that hot. Dark, sable skin, eyes blacker than my soul…what a waste.
When they realized I didn’t have a single scratch on me, that I’d been in that bunker for five years, they decided I must be an artilect and that the Second Coming they’d been anticipating for generations had finally come to pass. Seemed like a bit of a leap to me, but desperate times and all that.
Fucking hillbillies. They still dressed the way their ancestors did, the women in something they called prairie dresses. I had no idea what that meant, only that it covered way too much for my taste. We’d have to work on that. Although, they were more than happy to uncover themselves for their Divine.
Yes, I could get used to this life. It wasn’t what I was expecting, but definitely what I deserved.
“And say these artilects become sentient. And we recognize this sentience. Are they then able to get married? Own property? Vote? Obtain positions of power? And if we don’t let them, what then? Will they rise up against us? Turn us into second-class citizens? Destroy us? If even the remotest possibility of this exists, why would we give them the chance?”
— Sarah Weiland, President of the Preserve Terra Society, 2039
I’d been awake for an hour, trying to scrub the last vision from my mind. If I’d been able, I would’ve taken my brain out and washed it. I recognized the cyborg this time; I’d been in him before. He’d been in agony, undergoing the procedure that would make him a cyborg. Judging by what I’d just seen, it had worked out well for him. I wasn’t quite sure what he’d meant by the woman in the bunker, but at the moment, that wasn’t important. What was important was that he was nearby.
“Tor. Tor!” His composure—his lack of snoring, his closed mouth—was unnerving.
“Is it morning already?”
“No. Yes. I have no idea.”
He propped himself up on one elbow, bits of bark clinging to the tangle of his hair. “If you don’t know, why are we having this conversation?”
“There’s someone else.”
He sat up, the furrows on his forehead distorting his tattoos. “Someone else? That was quick. When did you have a chance to meet someone else? Is he hotter than me? Can he do this?” He crossed his biceps in front of his chest, flexing his muscles.
“Tor, I’m serious.” Avoiding his gaze, I described the Saints of Loving Grace. “He must be one of the other cyborgs Pax was talking about. He’s an asshole, but he’s close. I mean, very close.”
“Wait, you mean you were in his body while he was…with her?” He snorted.
“Tor. Living through it once was enough, thank you.”
“Sorry. Can you speak to him, the way you do with Pax?” His mouth was still twitching.
“No. I only seem to be able to do it with Pax. It was like every other time, where I’m watching behind their eyes. I still felt what he was feeling, but I couldn’t communicate with him, or him with me. I don’t even think he was aware I was inside him.”
“It sounds a bit weird, though, doesn’t it? Do you think the thoughts you felt were real? That there’s some artilect-worshipping cult carrying on as normal in the middle of the woods? Who thinks he’s some kind of god? And if it is real, is he the kind of person we want to expose ourselves to? From what you’ve said, he seems like a bit of a dick.”
I had to agree, though ‘dick’ was putting it mildly. “But he’s so close, and I thought he might help us. With Pax and Cindra. Strength in numbers and all that.” I hated delaying our rescue attempt, but if there was any way to increase our chance of success, we had to take it.
“Pax?” I reached out to him, feeling his consciousness as I slid through the thread connecting us.
“Ailith. Are you here?”
“No, Pax, but we’re close. Listen, there’s another…one of us, very near to where we are. Maybe he can help us. Can you hold on a bit longer?”
A long pause. “Yes. Oliver. He must come with you.” Anticipation tingled in his voice.
“How do you know his name? Do you know him?”
“No, but we must.”
“What do you mean, we must? How do you know about him?” This enigmatic bit was starting to wear a bit thin.
“I can’t tell you yet. You have to trust me.”
“Trust you? Pax, you need to give me more to go on.”
“We’ll be waiting. Bring him. He’s the last piece. But please hurry.” And he was gone.
“Pax said they can wait a bit longer. He said we need to recruit ‘him.’ That his name is Oliver.”
Tor bowed his head. “I don’t like it, but I don’t particularly like the idea of charging into a Terran base with just the two of us, either.”
It was still early, but we broke camp and headed out. We decided, or more accurately, Tor decided, to make a quick detour and harvest what we could from the deer we’d killed. We eventually found where it had died beneath the brush, but its body was gone.
“Damn. Looks like some animal got to it.” In truth, I didn’t mind. Why delay our journey any longer than necessary? Tor, on the other hand, was upset.
“Don’t worry about it, Tor. It was only going to slow us down, plus it would be more to carry.” Even with his strength, we’d packed as lightly as possible.
“It’s not that,” he replied, troubled. “Something’s taken it.”
“Probably a wolf. Or maybe a bear. Or one of the other monsters you were worried about. Don’t worry. I’ve seen you in action. I’m pretty sure you could take on a bear.”
He smiled without humor. “Maybe, but this wasn’t an animal. Look, no tracks, no drag marks.”
He was right. The impression of its body and a large pool of frozen blood remained where we’d bled it out, but nothing else.
“I wonder if whoever’s following us took it?” I said without thinking.
“Wait, what? You think someone’s been following us, and you didn’t tell me? Christ, Ailith. Are you kidding me?” He closed his eyes and steepled his fingers against his forehead.
“I’m not totally sure there is. I haven’t seen anyone, just felt them. I tried to tell you but…” The loss of focus. “They’re not dangerous, whoever they are,” I replied defensively.
“How could you possibly know that? Wait. Let me guess.” He held up a hand. “You just feel it.”
I turned away and bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood. My first reaction was to lash out at him, to remind him that I was still coming to terms with this new life. But it wouldn’t change the fact that he was right. I should’ve told him. I could’ve put both of us in danger. “I’m sorry.”
“Never mind; it’s done. Just please, tell me this stuff in the future.” He tightened the straps on his backpack and began walking again.
“Wait, that’s it? That’s all you’re going to say? No ‘Ailith, what were you thinking? Or Ailith, you could have gotten us both killed?’”
He shrugged. “I can give you a telling off if you like, but something tells me it wouldn’t make a difference.”
“I’m not that difficult, am I? Wait, are you laughing ?”
His shoulders were shaking under his heavy pack. “Yes.”
“Why aren’t you more upset?”
“I told you before, if anyone tried to sneak up on us, I’d know.”
“Well, I—”
One of the threads in my mind’s eye flashed as though it had been struck by lightning. That turned out not to be far from the truth.
“Why do we plan to make artilects look and feel, for all intents and purposes, human? That’s a good question. And no, it’s not so we can integrate them secretly into an unwit
ting society. It’s because we hope that, because they’ll think like us, if they also look like us, we’ll afford them the same respect we give to advanced forms of life such as our own.”
—Robin Leung, CEO of Novus Corporation, 2040
“…Eventually, the statue grew so tall, they lived only in its shadow. And although they lit fires to keep themselves warm, many froze to death. The rest became deaf, and blind, and grew ignorant, knowing nothing of the world outside of the shadow…”
I repeated the words to myself, first in my head then aloud. If I remembered it, remembered her voice, it would keep me safe when they came again. They’d be here soon. The burns on my body had nearly healed, the perfume of my cooking skin dissipated, floating up the stairs and into the rest of the house, where they sniffed it and congratulated themselves on their success.
“…she had stars for eyes and feathers made from the memories of her people…”
“Are you okay?” Pax reached over and touched my arm. His fingers were dry and smooth, as if the fingerprints had been rubbed away. He meant well. It was my fault we were here, and yet he was being so kind to me.
His tallness and cinnamon cow-licked hair made him look awkward and weak, but it was deceiving. He never cried out, even when they turned up the dial and held the rods to his arms, his face, between his legs. His eyes became dreamy, and he almost smiled, as though the electricity were telling him a secret. He kept me strong.
We’d known we were going to be in the bunker for a few days, but after a week had gone by, I’d panicked. Nothing was how it was supposed to be. Pax had told me stories, different from the ones I knew. Stories about tiny monsters sacrificing themselves for each other and repairing themselves with the bodies of their fallen brothers. He’d said these monsters were inside us.