The Seeds of Winter: Artilect War Book One

by A. W. Cross

  “Oh, Ailith, isn’t it exciting! We’re actually going to be part of something. No longer standing by as the world changes around us. We’re finally seizing our destiny and taking action.”

  “Surely you won’t be going?” I asked, surprised. In our plan, only the men and women, adult men and women, would be participating.

  She faltered. “What? But why? I have as much faith as anyone.”

  “Oh, Celeste, I know.” I touched her arm. “But you’re so young and—”

  “I survived as well as everyone else, didn’t I?” Her face flushed a deep scarlet.

  “Of course you have. It’s only… I’m trying to protect you.”

  Her face softened a bit. “But we should be protecting you. It’s our fate.”

  Fucking Oliver. I hoped the faith these people had in him was justified. Not that I was any better.

  When everyone had left the hall, Oliver took us to his living quarters. Each of the men in the village had their own residence, while the woman lived together in the large house in the center. His home was more modest than I’d expected, but perhaps that was part of his disguise.

  Was he living up to their expectations of what an artilect god was? Or had they adjusted their beliefs accordingly? If his house was anything to go by, the Saints were unsure of Oliver’s level of sentience. His house had been decorated sufficiently to reflect someone with likes and dislikes, but with enough austerity to suit a tenant who had little emotional attachment to such things.

  The door crashed shut behind us.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? I told you not to come back. I told you what would happen if you did.”

  “I don’t believe you. I don’t think you would ever hurt these people. After all, who would stroke your ego if you killed them all?”

  “But why did you come back? I understood we’d reached an agreement…”

  “Pax, one of the cyborgs we need to rescue, insists that we need you to be successful.” Maybe I could appeal to his ego.

  “Bullshit. It’s a fucking trap. Doesn’t the whole thing seem a bit shady to you? Surely you see it?” he addressed Tor.

  Tor glanced from me to him, his eyes wary. “Yes, it does. But,” he continued as I started to protest, “we do have reason to believe it’s not.”

  “How do you even know you’re talking to another cyborg? Maybe you’re talking to yourself.” He sneered at me.

  “Look, this is happening. Unless you want your followers to see how full of it you are. Do you think they’ll continue to follow a god who stood by as others were tortured and killed? Not to mention, if Pax and Cindra are fallible, it means you are too. What makes you a god if you can die like any other man?”

  “Protecting my people is what makes me a god,” he replied. “Instead, you want me to send them into a situation where you can’t guarantee their safety. You have no idea what we’re walking into.”

  Of course, he was right.

  Pax’s vision of the future haunted me. “We can resolve this peacefully. We will resolve this peacefully. We have to.” If I can’t use his ego against him, maybe I can exploit his self-interest. “Besides, what if the Terrans find out about you? That there’s an artilect, the very thing they helped destroy the world to prevent, living a few miles away. What would you do then? Flee to draw any conflict away from your followers? Or expect them to die defending you?”

  “That would never happen. No one knows about us,” he said, but the paleness of his face told me otherwise.

  “I’m sure my tolerance for torture wouldn’t be very high, Oliver. I’d probably tell them everything I knew.”

  “Maybe you’d never get that far. It’s a dangerous world out there.”

  Tor stiffened next to me, and I brushed his arm. “We’d expose you long before that ever happened. These people are resourceful. They’d survive.”

  “Oliver, after this, you can come back here. You don’t have to stay with us.” Tor tried to placate him.

  “Thank you, Tor. How very magnanimous of you.”

  “Can we please come up with a plan? We can fight about this later.” We don’t have time for this.

  After an hour, we’d finally devised a strategy. I wasn’t sure it was the best, but it was the only one we agreed on. Tor and I were to go on ahead, while Oliver got the Saints of Loving Grace organized. We would act as scouts, reporting back to Oliver when they arrived.

  I sketched a rough map for them to follow, trying to be as specific as possible.

  Oliver barely glanced at it. “You don’t know where they are, do you?”

  “I do. It’s… We haven’t been there, as such.”

  By this time, Oliver was herding us toward the door. “Whatever. We’ll manage.”

  “And remember, nobody gets hurt!” We had to avoid Pax’s future, or we were done for, all of us.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake. This is a brilliant plan, isn’t it? Who cares if a few Terrans get wounded? They’re obsolete.”

  “Yes, well, you’ve got no choice now, do you?”

  “You’re wrong, Ailith. There’s always a choice.” And with that, he slammed the door in our faces.

  “…and with assassination of Novus CEO Robin Leung, the Prime Minister has called for an indefinite ban on further research and production of any artificial life. Those still in existence will be allowed to live out their natural lives—if you can call it that—but all individuals with robotic components have been issued with a notice of removal. That goes for anything functional or cosmetic. Now, we’ve heard rumors of cyborgs who don’t have any noticeable physical differences, who appear to be fully organic, but these rumors are unsubstantiated and likely started by those who wish to stir up further controversy…”

  —Shirley Novak, CNN Tech Watch, 2040

  I had to admit; Ahar was stunning. Red had always made me look sallow, but the crimson fabric of her lehenga choli made her skin look like tawny cream. Our mother had spent months on the intricate embroidery, coaxing peacocks and twisting vines out of the gold satin. She had pricked her fingers many times while sewing it; I hoped the blood-spotted ribbons would prove to be a blessing.

  Our mother was annoyed because I, the eldest sister, showed zero interest in getting married. I’d tried to explain it to her on numerous occasions, but she simply pursed her lips and turned away. Ahar understood. She knew I wanted more than the future our mother wanted for me. I’d wanted more from the time I was a little girl.

  Mother, of course, would argue, saying I would still be able to do everything I wanted, that I could have a husband, and children, and the career I’d always dreamed of. But I couldn’t, and Ahar knew it. She’d kept my secret, even from Aadi, and would keep it until my death, if that should happen.

  Ahar turned slightly, catching my eye and smiling. To me, she seemed stifled, weighed down by the heavy gold of her jewelry. The red and ivory of the bangles I’d given her this morning reflected the overhead light. She’d placed them above all the others on her arm, closest to her heart.

  My ass was aching as the Giani began the prayers of the laavan pheras. I surreptitiously checked my watch: it had already been half an hour. I shifted, trying to relieve the pressure. The bottom of my choli cut into my stomach.

  Why had I eaten so much?

  The fullness of my belly lulled me; my eyelids drooped. I stifled a laugh, picturing my mother’s face if I were to fall asleep. She was already annoyed with me. I’d wanted to wear black today—it was the color I was most comfortable in. We’d fought, and now I was wearing green.

  My attention wandered from the ceremony to the gurudwara itself. The ornate white columns and arches of the temple soared over the crowd, inlaid with colorful enamel flowers and leaves and festooned with massive ivory peonies and orchids. Had they been carved by human hands? Or had they come off some robotic assembly line? My heart quailed.

  I was entering the Pantheon Modern cyborg program in a few days. Would I become a robot? Mindless, cap
able of only performing specific mundane tasks, over and over? Would that be any different from my life now?

  No. They’d assured me I would still be the same person, just better. Besides, whatever was going to happen, it had to be better than being ordinary.

  Even so, Ahar couldn’t understand why I would want to become a cyborg. When I’d gone to her with the news of my acceptance, she’d bustled me into her closet and shut the door the way she’d done when we were children.

  “Aren’t you worried about what’s going to happen to you afterward? If people will still see you as human? What if they treat you the way they treat the robots?” she'd whispered as we'd crouched in the dark.

  She had a point. Robots weren’t exactly treated well right now with all the tension between the Cosmists and the Terrans. I’d seen many of them being abused, ignored, spat on…even knocked over in the street as they minded their own business.

  It was especially hard for the androids, the ones who looked so human. I’d have thought creating them to mimic us would make people want to protect them, to treat them with kindness, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. The more human they seemed, the more people wanted to exploit them.

  Cyborgs were a little different. For some people, like those who’d lost limbs, it made sense. And it was fashionable in some circles. Dermal augmentations were popular with the kids in our neighborhood, the incandescent patterns flashing and throbbing under their skin. But those were teenagers, and the implants were temporary. Choosing to become a cyborg when you didn’t have to, making a machine a permanent part of yourself, was a different matter altogether. And everybody, Terrans and Cosmists alike, agreed on that.

  “Ahar! Relax. They’ve assured me that nobody will be able to tell I’m a cyborg. I’ll look completely human. Anyway, I don’t care. I want people to know. It’s their problem if they can’t accept it.”

  “That’s hardly helped the androids, though, has it? Seriously Kal, for all your open-mindedness about robots and cyborgs, not once have I ever heard you defend them when someone we know has spoken against them, or worse. You just like to talk about how liberal you are. You still look the other way.”

  It hurt because it was true. “Well, I’m making up for it now, aren’t I?”

  “Plus, what will Mother say? What will her friends say?” Ahar tried to look severe, but the thought of our mother’s best friend, Mrs. Kahttri’s, face was too much and she snorted. I hadn’t dared to tell Mother what I’d been up to. Although she would never openly discriminate against a cyborg or even a robot, she was staunchly on the Terran side of the artilect debate. She didn’t mind cyborgs as much, since she saw them as humans with some machine parts, but the most recent android models made her nervous. I had to admit, they seemed pretty damn close to human, talking and smiling stiffly as they went about their duties, but it wasn’t like they were sentient. They were glorified toasters.

  She’d whispered to my aunty that she didn’t mind the androids per se, since they were useful, and did my aunty know that Mrs. Khattri had one? And it did all the work at home and made wonderful roti , and wasn’t that incredible, but why did they have to make them appear so human? Why give them faces and eight fingers and two thumbs, two arms and two legs? My aunty had wondered if Mrs. Khattri’s android was anatomically correct, scandalizing my mother.

  There was a man standing by one of the pillars, just out of sight of the general crowd. He looked straight out of television: tall and broad, his silver hair shorn close to his skull. He wore pressed black trousers and a black button-up shirt. A tinted visor obscured his eyes.

  I glanced around. No one else seemed to notice him. But he noticed me. He held up a black card, with a single bronze symbol embossed on it. I had to squint to make it out.

  A stylized PM. Pantheon Modern. Crap. Where the hell was my mother? Whatever he wanted, it couldn’t be good.

  Voices rose in chorus to the final hymns, and my attention snapped back to the wedding. It was nearly over. I had to get that man out of view before my mother saw him and wandered over to welcome him, throwing her arms around him like he was just another member of the family.

  As the karah parshad was passed around, Ahar smiled at me. She truly did look radiant. Aadi, his fingers resting on the hilt of his krijpan , winked at me. She was going to tell him tonight that she was pregnant. He’d be overjoyed. An unexpected pang of sadness caught me off guard.

  As the guests filed out of the temple, the stranger’s hand fell on my shoulder. “Kalbir Anand?”

  “Yes.”

  “My name is Dominic. We need to talk.”

  “Fine, but not here. Follow me.” I kept my eyes on my mother. She was busy accepting congratulations and hadn’t noticed us yet. We mingled with the crowd until we reached the main hallway. I pulled him down to the end, where there was an alcove just large enough for the two of us and a hideous orange vase.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’m from Pantheon Modern.”

  “Yeah, I can see that. What do you want? Why are you here? This isn’t really a good time.”

  “It never is,” he replied. “We have a problem.”

  “What do you mean? What problem?”

  Did they find out I’d told Ahar everything? Was I in trouble?” “Look, I—”

  “Program Omega has been compromised.” Even though his voice was low, I peeked around the corner to see if anyone was listening. The hall had fallen silent. Everyone was getting into their cars to head to the reception hall.

  “What does that mean? I’m no longer a part of it?”

  “That’s up to you. Things are going to start moving very fast now. If you want to remain part of the program, you have to come with me, now.”

  “Now? I can’t come now. My sister just got married. People will notice if I’m not there.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “You’ve never met my mother.”

  “People will be looking for you. To kill you.”

  “What? But I’m not even a cyborg yet!”

  “It doesn’t matter. You will be.”

  “Fine. Then I won’t go through with it. I won’t tell anyone anything.”

  “No, you won’t.” He opened his blazer. A tiny syringe was tucked into his waistband. He shifted his weight, trapping me in the alcove.

  Cold realization dawned.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Wait. Stop, please.”

  “Miss Anand, I came here to help you. I don’t think you understand the stakes here. I can’t let you go. You may think you can keep a secret, but you can’t.”

  “I—” I wanted to insist that I could, but he was right. I hadn’t kept it a secret from Ahar.

  Ahar. Did they know I’d told her?

  “So my only choice is to come with you now, or you’ll kill me?”

  “Yes. I can only protect you if you come with me. If I can’t protect you, I have to kill you. A war has started, Miss Anand, and you’re part of it, whether you like it or not. What part of it you are is up to you.”

  Tears blurred my vision. I bit my lip to try to stop them.

  Dominic laid his hand on my arm. “Please, miss. I don’t want to kill you. I’m trying to save you. I… You’ve been my charge from the beginning. I don’t want to lose you.” He removed the visor. He was younger than I’d first suspected, prematurely gray. His eyes matched my choli, the vibrant green of old jade.

  “You’ve been following me since the beginning? That was months ago.”

  “Yes. Please, let me take you with me.”

  “How do I know you’re not one of the people who want to kill me?”

  “You don’t. You have to trust me.”

  My mother. Ahar. What would they do if I suddenly disappeared? It would kill my mother, ruin the start of Ahar’s marriage.

  My death, right here and now, would be worse. Wouldn’t it?

  “If you’ve been following me for so long, then you know my mother
, my sister?”

  “Yes.”

  “If I disappear… They… Please, can I have until tomorrow? Ahar leaves for her honeymoon. I’ll think of something to tell my mother. That I need to go away for work or something. Please?”

  He didn’t say anything for what seemed like hours. A car horn honked outside. Mother.

  It seemed to rouse him. “Fine. Tomorrow. Talk to no one until then. I’ll be watching. If I have to take you out, I will.”

  I crashed through the front doors of the hall just as my mother was reaching them.

  “Kalbir! There you are. Where have you—” She saw the tearstains on my face and patted my arm. “Oh, foolish girl. Don’t you worry. You’ll see just as much of Ahar as before. They only live around the corner.”

  I hiccupped. “I know. It’s just that I’ll miss her. Things will be different now. Everything’s changing.”

  “Things must change, or the world will stop turning. You’ll be sisters forever, no matter what happens.”

  As we drove away from the gurudwara, I wondered just how long forever would be.

  “…Actually, Shirley, you wouldn’t even need nuclear weapons to destroy the world. Nothing as brutal as that. You get enough cities burning for long enough at the right time of year, and boom, total disruption to the ecosystem. Wildfires and incendiary lightning would wipe out arable land. Smoke would fill the clouds, and toxic rain would fall. Not to mention how people would react. You’ve seen how they get when they think they’re going to be snowed in for a few days…”

  —Alexander Petrov, CNN Tech Watch, 2040

  “Do you think they’ll show up?” We had stopped to rest, and I’d followed one of the glittering threads. The fullness in my belly from food I hadn’t eaten was strangely comforting. Neither one of us had been to a Sikh wedding before, and describing it to Tor had been a welcome distraction for both of us.