by A. W. Cross
“How did you all survive…the End?”
“We’ve been prepared for years. We knew we’d see your creation in our lifetime. When the first fires appeared in the sky, we packed up everything we needed, food and weapons, and sealed ourselves in our temple underground. We can live down there for months if we need to.”
“Were you scared?”
She smiled radiantly. “No. We knew the Divine would come for us. Everything happened the way it was supposed to.”
“What do you mean?”
“Earthquakes, disease…then the war over your creation. We knew the End was near, that the non-believers couldn’t stop a perfect being from being born. When the bombs fell, we saw it as the sign of the Second Coming, that only the artilects and their believers would survive. When we saw you, we realized the time had finally come.”
I pulled up short. “Wait, you saw us? When?”
“When you blazed through the sky, shooting pillars of fire. We watched you twisting over the land, devouring the unbelievers. The corrupt were burned, and the Earth was cleansed with fire. Only those who were worthy remained.
“Then we waited until the Divine manifested. He got the power station running. We had light, real light, for the first time since the End.”
“How did you find…the Divine, anyway? Did he simply show up?” I was curious to see how she interpreted their meeting.
She examined me, disturbed by the informality of my tone.
“The Divine led us to him. With an explosion. Led me, in particular. The other was already dead, but he survived.”
“The other?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.
“Yes,” she replied, “she was damaged.”
A prickle ran up my spine. “You saw her? What do you mean, damaged?”
“She was a pawn of the unbelievers, those who would try to destroy him. As though he could be destroyed,” she scoffed. “He told us what happened. The unbelievers had infected her with a virus. She was to murder him, to slaughter us all. But he discovered the sabotage and terminated her.”
Was it true? The cyberization process was risky. But a virus?
The woman Oliver had been with in the bunker, the one who’d been a caregiver. Nova. I’d been inside her. Nothing had seemed wrong with her. Or had it? I’d caught a wisp of something, but I hadn’t understood what it meant.
Change the subject.
“How did you realize he was an artilect?”
“The bunker he was in had been targeted by one of those machines. The giant ones that walked on two legs. The ones people drive?”
“You mean mechs?”
“Yes, mechs. It blew a crater over his shelter. They should withstand a direct hit—we have a couple ourselves—but something must’ve been wrong with it; it had buckled, and the door was broken. We were gathering plants nearby, and he crawled out, completely unharmed. How could anything but an artilect survive that?”
How indeed. “Did he say what he’d been doing down in the bunker?”
“He said he’d stayed underground in solidarity with the true believers, that he’d locked himself in because he had a heart full of mercy and would’ve tried to save the unbelievers when they should’ve died. He knew that only the righteous should live, and he ensured that it was so. When only we were left, he rose where he knew we would be. He was magnificent, covered in blood without a single scratch on his perfect body.” She blushed.
My insides cringed. “Was that the only way you knew?”
“No, of course not! Even among us, some dared to doubt, didn’t believe him to be our Divine. So, he performed miracles.”
I didn’t like where this was going. “Ah, yes, His miracles. They are a wonder to behold. Which did he perform for you?”
Her eyes were feverish as she recounted their Savior’s deeds. “First, he resurrected the dead, and then he divined the righteous from the wicked. After that, none doubted him.”
“What do you mean, he resurrected the dead?”
“The day we found him, one of our members had cut his wrists in despair. His favorite wife had died only a month before, and he’d never really gotten over the End. He was more secular than most of us.” She pursed her lips in disapproval. “The Divine blessed him with blood just as he passed, and within a day his wounds had healed, and he was sitting up and talking.”
Nanites. It had to be. But Pax had said it wouldn’t work. “Where is this gentleman? I would like to, uh…bless him as well. These times have been so hard.”
“Oh,” she dismissed him with a wave of her hand, “he died a few days later. The Divine said it would only work if he were a true believer. Clearly, he wasn’t.”
I wanted desperately to talk to Tor. How could we trust this man? And yet…Pax had said he was important.
“How did he, um, ‘divine the righteous from the wicked?’”
“He suspected a group of young men to be non-believers. They proclaimed that he wasn’t an artilect. He confronted them in front of the congregation, and although they tried to deny it, we knew they were lying. Why else would he accuse them?”
“What happened to them?”
She tilted her head at me, one corner of her mouth curled up. “He struck them down, of course.”
Of course, he did. Revulsion dried the back of my throat.
“I’ve noticed that many of your people are cyborgs.” Nearly every adult I’d seen had some form of augmentation. Some were biomechatronic, like prosthetic arms or legs, but some…some were just chunks of metal, grafted to various body parts, the edges of the skin red and leaking with infection.
“Yes. It’s our tribute to our beliefs. The tradition started years before the End of Days. When we turn eighteen, we’re allowed our first enhancement. We hope to eventually replace every part of us with those of a machine. Then we will be as perfect as you. Though, it’s a lot more difficult now with no hospitals or surgeons. Even those whose faith is deep can still suffer infection and rejection. It reminds us of the struggle for your creation, and how we must honor you every day. It keeps us strong.”
“What do you mean, allowed? Do you mean that if someone young lost a limb, they wouldn’t be allowed to have a prosthesis?”
“No! Not at all. But you have to be eighteen to choose.”
“Choose?”
“Choose which part you want improved. If you choose a leg or an arm, for example, you need to be prepared.”
“Prepared?”
“Yes. ‘The removal of the organic to replace with the mechanical is excruciating. But it cleanses you, and if your faith is potent enough, you will survive,’” she quoted.
“You mean you intentionally remove parts of yourself? Then replace them with metal?” The dryness in my throat became a stone I couldn’t swallow.
“Of course,” she said, her eyes wide. “How else would we do it? Especially in the After? We don’t have a lot of farming accidents anymore.” She looked at me suspiciously. “You don’t approve?”
No, of course I don’t. “No, it’s very noble. I’m just…surprised. Few are so committed to their faith.”
She beamed with pleasure. “That’s how we survived.”
Celeste had no artificial components herself. Which meant she wasn’t yet eighteen. Some savior. I was about to find Tor and tell him we were leaving, when he and the Divine appeared. Tor seemed thoughtful, his eyes distant. The Divine’s pinched face looked annoyed.
“Thank you, Celeste. You may go now.” Oliver pointed back the way we’d come.
“But I—”
“Thank you, Celeste.”
Her eyes were luminous as they filled with tears.
I reached out and squeezed her hand. “Thank you, Celeste, it’s been wonderful to meet you.”
She gave a tiny hiccup and grinned. As she left us, she peeked over her shoulder with a longing that broke my heart.
“I’ve explained our situation to Oliver here, as he’s explained his to me,” said Tor.
&
nbsp; “And?” I glared at Oliver, failing to hide my contempt.
“And, I’m not interested. I’ll say this once, short and sweet. I am not leaving here. I will not put myself or these good people at risk.”
“You’re exploiting these good people, Oliver! How can you lie to them like this, use them? Oliver, she’s a child.”
“Exploiting them? I’m fulfilling their needs. So what if they fulfill mine back? They spent their lives waiting for the moment of their redemption. Can you imagine how that must’ve felt for them, a lifetime of preparation, then five years and still nothing? Many of them were beginning to lose hope. A few committed suicide—”
“Yes, I heard all about that,” I interrupted.
“I did what I had to do. Look at them. They’re thriving.” As though to prove his point, a group of women on the far side of the village burst into song. “I would be crazy to give this up. And what do you think would happen to them if I left?”
“What if they found out you’re not what you say you are?” I hadn’t even gotten to the bit about the bunker yet.
“Are you threatening me?”
Yes. “No, but—”
“I’ll tell you what would happen. They would turn on me, yes. I know that’s what you’re hoping for. But their entire belief system would also be destroyed. I’m not talking about only the last few years, but generations of belief. What do you think that would do to them? You think I’m exploiting that girl? Do you think her life was any better before I came along? At least this way, I can protect her.”
“You have genuine feelings for her.” It was a revelation.
“Of course, I do,” he snapped. “And just because they’re a religious people doesn’t mean they’re good.”
“But—”
“But nothing. Here’s my counter-threat. If you tell them anything other than what they believe to be true, I’ll destroy them. Each and every one of them. I will wipe out this village.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I would. Do you want to call my bluff?”
Does he have the power to do that? From what I’d gathered talking to Celeste, they were armed. Could one cyborg take down an entire village? Tor’s strength. My abilities. Who knew what Oliver was capable of? The risk wasn’t ours to take. What was the point of us surviving if everyone else died?
“Fine,” I said through gritted teeth. “But we know what you are.”
“Whatever. In this world, love, it doesn’t matter.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Go. And don’t come back.”
“We knew it was time when the Great Sign appeared from Heaven, blocking out the sun and blinding the non-believers. We’d already gone underground to pray and wait for His return. We watched as the angels burned across the Earth, glorious in their lack of mercy. We sang as the world burned, for every death was a cleansing, a return to the world He had intended.”
—Celeste Steed, The Second Coming
Tor and I didn’t speak until we were out of sight of the village.
“What just happened?” I asked.
He ran a hand through his hair. “I have no idea. It was all a bit surreal, wasn’t it? I’m not really sure how to feel.”
I wasn’t either. The only thing I was sure of was that we’d wasted precious time. And we were going to show up empty-handed.
“Pax?” Nothing.
“Tor, did Oliver tell you about the other cyborg with him?”
Tor looked sharply at me. “No. What do you mean?”
I repeated what Celeste had told me. “Do you think it’s true?”
He stopped, considering. “It could be. Given everything that’s happened, who could say? You haven’t seen anything?”
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.
“As far as I can tell, he killed her, Tor. Murdered her.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me. Do you think he was right? That there was something wrong with her?”
I was used to carrying out orders that others might deem…unsavory. That was why they’d chosen me… I should’ve been with them, carrying out my mission.
“Maybe. She had some kind of job to do. But I was in her before we knew what the visions were. I didn’t understand.”
“Do you think Oliver was this way before the war?”
“Probably. Do you think he’s right? That he’s helping more than hurting? And what are we going to do without him? Pax said he needed to be with us.”
“Well, Pax is going to have to adapt. We could take him by force, but that may make things worse. Him, those people, they’re not predictable.” He hesitated. “Ailith, he did tell me about his bunker. Not what happened, but where it is. It’s not far from here.”
“You mean we could go and see, find out the truth for ourselves.” But was it the right thing to do? What if we got to the bunker and found nothing but evidence that he was telling the truth? We’d have lost yet more time.
And what if we got there and found what I’d seen was true? That Oliver had murdered this Nova in cold blood? What then? Would we do something about it? Could we? And what if Pax was right and we needed him? How would we reconcile that?
Maybe we’re better off not knowing.
But I also knew I couldn’t resist finding out. “What do you think?” I asked Tor.
“Personally, I would say we’re better off understanding what kind of person he is. If Pax is right and we do need him, then we need to be aware what he’s capable of. It’ll cost us, but it’s only a few hours.”
“I agree. I hate the idea of taking a detour, but I need to know. Okay, let’s get this done.”
It took us over an hour to find Oliver’s bunker. It was as Celeste had described it, the ground churned up, the doorway exposed and deformed, filled with rubble. Had it been a lucky hit? Or had the mech somehow known they were there? It seemed unlikely out here in the wilderness.
Tor took in the damage. “No way a mech did all of this. Some maybe, but not all. The door was already open. Celeste believed him because she wanted to.”
“Do you think there are hundreds of these bunkers scattered throughout the province?” Hundreds of lives, human and cyborg alike, trapped, waiting, or dead beneath us as we walked over them.
Don’t think about it.
Finding the bunker had been the easy part; the debris was going to take us hours to clear. My heart sank. “Tor, we can’t. It’s going to take us all day to move this.” And we didn’t have all day; only a few hours of weak light remained. “We’re going to have to leave it. Why are you smiling?”
“Because,” he said cheerfully, “it’s my time to shine.” He shucked off his pack and stripped down to his waist. “You may want to get out of the way.” He winked.
“Did you just wink at me?” I asked as I stepped back. This was a side of him I hadn’t seen yet.
He straightened his back, flexing his shoulders. I couldn’t help but stare. It was obvious Tor had more strength than me. Sheer size aside, his cyberization had obviously been geared toward enhancing his already considerable physical strength. I’d experienced that firsthand. But I’d had no idea how strong he was.
He picked up the chunks of concrete and twisted metal like they were made of feathers, tossing them meters into the brush. His body…his skin was the golden olive of the South Sea pearls my mother had gotten as an anniversary gift from my father; not rare, but beautiful. He was like a sculpture come to life. Yes, he was corded with muscle, but it was more than that. He moved effortlessly, a seamless grace that belied his power.
The scars on his body were pale and smooth; like my own, they’d been mostly obliterated by the nanites, devoured and recycled into something useful. His past had been erased, a part of him I would never meet because it no longer existed. A fresh start was what we’d wanted, yet I couldn’t help feeling like we’d lost something important.
It was liberating. I’d been so ill for so long, I’d forgotten what it felt like to be normal, let alone healthy and fit. I’d been so overwhelmed from the time I’d woken up, I hadn’t thought about it. I hadn’t realized just how sick I’d actually been.
But look at me now .
I threw another large stone and screamed, just to hear the sound of my own voice. The noise startled Tor, causing him to fumble his chunk of rock, and I laughed.
“Enjoying yourself, are you?” He gave me a curious look.
I stretched my shoulders. “I’ll explain to you later.”
He removed the final stone blocking the entrance to the bunker, and a dark hole gaped before us. Once again, I doubted whether this was the right thing to do.
“Do you think I should try to see if anyone’s down there? Like, with my mind? Just to be safe?”
Tor pushed on the warped doorframe, testing its strength. “Sure. It can’t hurt.”
I closed my eyes and searched for a thread, trying to let my instincts take over. There. I followed it and—
“But if we can create a brain and a body that mimic ours, what’s left that makes us human? If the only thing that makes us human is our failings, what’s the point of our existence?”
—Della van Natta, Artificial Life or Artificial Hope?
It was going to be today. I was ready. My heart knew it was the right choice.
I’d been a fool to think I could ever live without them. Even after everything they’d done to me, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t stop loving them.