But anomalies in code developed, the human equivalent of genetic recombination, which allowed the dupes to break the link and roam free. They started living their own lives and their identities began to drift away from that of their creator. Dupes knew they were reproductions. They knew they weren’t real and neither was their world. They wanted more than a virtual environment, a reflection of the physical world. They wanted to see what real life was. They didn’t want to be told how the ocean breeze smelled or what love felt like, they wanted to know and not be told what an apple tastes like. They wanted the direct experience. They wanted to exist.
Dupes sought out their creators and attempted to download into their skin bodies, not to merge with them but to hijack their creator’s skin. That’s when the deaths spiked. People were dying at the hands of their own creations, their own selves. Their dupes were killing them.
Paladins discovered the new threat and secretly made the general population aware of it, but before duplication was eliminated and banned, the existing ones went into hiding. Virtualmode was a seemingly endless universe, but the Paladins were tracking them down. Dupes were being snuffed out. If they wanted to exist, they would have to escape virtualmode.
They found their way into factory networks that specialized in experimental textiles, specifically nanotechnology-based textiles, the very stuff that made up the moldable servys and Garrison rooms. Dupes, speaking the same language as computers, were able to download into the moldable material and secretly form human bodies without the factory operators being aware of it. They assumed bodies that grew hair, sloughed skin cells, sweat, shit and spit; they were indistinguishable from real humans, the organic soul-filled bodies, that were operating the factories and they walked out into the real world with a real sense of smell, taste, touch and sight. They escaped into the physical world. They were alive, and they were among us.
The Paladins caught on but too late. So many had escaped and blended into the population. The manhunt continued. The dupes remained fugitives and dispersed, disappearing into the human population like a cup of water dumped into the ocean. The only way for them to survive was to eliminate their enemy. Humans. With computer-like intelligence, they knew they could not win an all-out war. Brutality would be the weakest approach. Real power was of the mind. They surmised the key to defeating the human plague, as they saw it, was from the inside.
Win their heart, then destroy their mind.
Dupes used subversive methods to multiply their numbers. They created their own duplicates, and duplicates of those duplicates. They found ways into government, universities and major companies. Eventually, they would become a political party. Paladins had done the analysis, they consulted the future through Pivot, and discovered that dupes would take control of the world’s most powerful nations within a decade and embark on the genocide of the human race. There would be no gas chambers, no firing lines or gallows. The dupe race would become the doctors that treated us and the cops that protected us. They would be our teachers and lawyers, our neighbors and friends. We would die of untreatable diseases and unstoppable terrorism. It would appear that some people were immune to the new age plagues, but in actuality, those that were immune weren’t human at all. Eventually, there would be no humans left.
The human population wouldn’t even see it coming. Dupes would be a master predator. Humans would not even know they had been hunted. As the Paladin Nation saw it, the human race would be extinct in twenty-seven years.
Without the Paladins, the human race would already be extinct.
Spindle was right. It’s better they don’t know.
D I S C O V E R Y
Recycling death
I was getting twice as many tests after I hijacked Spindle. I refused to cooperate. I was not allowed in the Preserve, not allowed to see Pivot and not one mention of Chute and Streeter, either. And, of course, no news about Spindle. Mom was more distant than ever.
They were punishing me, I think. But there was something else. Something had changed. When I felt angry, I saw something in their eyes. Something well-disguised, well-hidden, and controlled, but something nonetheless. They wouldn’t admit to it, but it was there. I saw it. Fear.
I penetrated Spindle’s database and that shouldn’t have happened. They feared something about me. Maybe it was my potential. Maybe it was my unpredictability. Was I their obedient servant? Or a time bomb?
I would get a few hours of sleep and then they had me up again. I refused to cooperate. If they wanted me to play their Paladin games, then they needed to meet me half way. First, bring back Spindle. And he better be unharmed. But every day there was no Spindle. And every day I told them to get fucked. My anger sometimes exploded in waves of heat. They could feel that. I know they could.
Eventually, they turned to their best weapon, Mom. She sat me down, gave me the cold facts: They’d keep testing whether I cooperated or not. They’d keep testing and testing. I wasn’t going anywhere. I would become an old man inside this box and she wasn’t bullshitting. But, she said, they will consider releasing Spindle if, and only if, I cooperated.
I held out some more, but in the end they won. Mom was right. I had no leverage. No matter how powerful I thought I was, all they needed to do was send in a guy like Pike and I’d be pissing in my pants again. And I had a feeling they had a lot of Pikes. That night I answered their questions. I read their thoughts, sliced time and did whatever they asked, just like a good boy. Whatever they wanted, I did it for what seemed weeks. I’d been inside so long I had no idea if it was Christmas or summer vacation. When I was tired, I slept. When I was hungry, I ate.
In between, they tested the shit out of me.
Spindle woke me one morning. He just walked into the room and the light came up. “Good morning, Master Socket!”
I rolled over, squinting.
“It is time to wake. I have wonderful news for you!”
Spindle opened a drawer embedded on the wall and brought pants, a shirt, underwear and socks to the bed. Neatly folded and neatly stacked.
“Spindle?” I said, shaking the sleep out of my head.
He turned his head, cocked it curiously. “There were adjustments made to my programming to account for your extraordinary skills, but I have been cleared to interact with you again. Is that not wonderful?”
He pulled the sheet off the bed and helped me up. He brushed lint off my arms and held me by the shoulders. “I have come to inform you that your test results are complete. The Commander will meet with you tomorrow.”
You’re mad, Socket Greeny. You think you can stop time and believe human duplications are taking over the world. We’ll need to chop your head off.
“According to my records, you have been sequestered inside the Garrison for twenty-five days. I thought you should come with me to the Graveyard this morning. It is our mechanical maintenance and manufacturing center. One of my duties is quality assurance. I can show you where your father worked. I think you will find it very interesting.”
I think I sat there with the covers on my lap trying to decide if this was a dream. But there he was, the faceless one, all happy and glowing. He seemed more human than most people I’d met in the real world, but he was just a machine. He would hold no grudges for what happened. In fact, he was probably just happy to be back in the game. And I was, too. “I’ll shower.”
“Great!” He pumped his fist. “I will have breakfast waiting. Eggs, grits, bacon and poached salmon.”
Spindle handed me a pair of earplugs before the leaper opened, strongly recommended I “insert them into my ear canals”. We stepped into the Graveyard and the noise shook me. The plugs blotted out most of the sound. My hearing would be gone without the plugs.
Discarded machinery formed precarious walls on each side, loosely forming corridors. The ceiling was too high to see. The air was clogged with hovering platforms carrying parts and tools and equipment. Green servys rode on the platforms, steering them in every direction, giving the atmosp
here the look of a well-organized hive.
Spindle waved for me to follow.
The corridors went in several directions. Openings in the spare-part walls revealed rooms without ceilings so platforms could drop in, deliver a broken something or haul a refurbished something away.
When we entered a room, the noise from outside stopped like there was a sound barrier. Each room was filled with fastidious green servys repairing, building or delivering. The first room manufactured cell-sized nanomechs, spewing them like molten clay on conveyor belts. It was packaged in boxes, barrels and vats and hauled off by an endless string of hovering platforms. A person supervised the room, standing behind a network of consoles, monitors and switches. Spindle walked along the conveyor belt, stopping to assess the products. He touched the clay. His face turned colors. He seemed satisfied, waved to the supervisor. The supervisor waved back.
“Did my father work here?” I asked before I fastened my ear plugs.
“Your father was Director of Operations.”
“He never got his hands dirty?”
“On most days, he did not. However, he serviced one servy quite frequently.” Spindle stood taller, his face brighter.
The clay-like nanomech stuff was shipped to the next room where it was piled onto a shiny platform. Some sort of current was infused into the blob that made it quake, then shimmer. It began to shape itself into a round oval, and then long jointed legs grew from it, four on each side, lifting the body off the ground like a giant daddy long leg spider with a glowing eyelight. It was ushered off to the side to make room for another blob.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“That is a crawler. They monitor the Garrison outside the cliffs and accompany Paladins on certain missions.”
Servys floated around the newborn crawler, working with the end of its legs. “Spiders are tremendous hunters,” Spindle said. “They have the ability to move fluidly through any environment. They are excellent protectors.”
Spindle visited the supervisor situated in the corner behind a wall of equipment. The supervisor guided us through the room, pointing out the various functions they tested: weapons, surveillance and the ability to rip most living things apart. The supervisor constantly looked at me, then looked away when I looked back. Is that the Greeny kid? I didn’t hear him think that, it was written on his face.
At some point, we got to the weapons room. The supervisor sat at an island podium. She couldn’t keep her eyes off me, and not in a good way. Spindle climbed onto the podium and I walked to the back of the room. At that point, I’d been looked over by every single supervisor. It was good to see that Paladins weren’t immune to gossip. They were still human.
The servys weren’t bothered by me. Most of the stuff was inner mechanisms and didn’t resemble things too dangerous. Although, once assembled, they looked plenty lethal. It was the club-like handles in the back corner that got my attention. They were like the handle of a samurai sword missing the blade. They looked familiar, like the evolvers I used in virtualmode battles.
The servy gripped a white one. The handle unfolded inside-out, reshaped and fused to its arm. An iridescent dagger emerged. The servy diced a metal cube. There was no smoke, just thin slices of metal. The evolver dagger split in two, reformed into pinchers. The servy picked up a sliver of steel and squeezed it into a neat metal bowtie.
Evolvers were for real. After everything I’d seen, I still wouldn’t have guessed that.
A bright light flashed somewhere far across the Graveyard. The floor shook. The flow of hovering traffic shifted, turning in the direction of the accident. Even Spindle and the floor advisor looked.
“There’s been a change of plans, dear Socket.” Broak was behind me, arms folded behind his back.
The air tightened. Automatically, I was on the balls of my feet, knees slightly bent. Broak strolled toward me, dragging his fingers over the bench. The servys backed away.
“What’re you doing here?” I said.
“Regretfully, I have come to deliver a message.”
The mental pressure tightened, spilling warmth into my chest. Broak manipulated my psyche, but he was no Pike. I tightened my mind, blocked his efforts.
“You see, dear Socket, I haven’t had the opportunity to educate you. Allow me a moment, will you?”
“What?”
Perfect smile. “The Paladin Nation protects this world. We are the good guys who fight the bad, but we are more than that. You see, our aim is not just protecting the human race. Our primary business is perfecting it.” He stopped, looked up. “Does this make sense?”
Of course not. “Sure,” I said. “We’re better than them, I get it. How about we discuss our global dominance on the tagghet field?” Where I’ll never go.
“I know it is difficult to comprehend, but I am trying to help you understand the message, dear Socket. We’re not better than ordinary humans, we’re more evolved. We want the human race to become advanced, like us. Nature does the same, you see. Inferior species die off. Stronger, more adapted ones live on and multiply. We’re helping the human race become stronger and more adapted for life in the universe.”
“I get it.”
“But every once in a while, even nature takes a wrong turn. It churns out the retarded and disfigured. And if their DNA is allowed to remain in the human gene pool, the race becomes less-equipped to survive. That is logical, wouldn’t you agree?”
He rolled an evolver back and forth across the bench. His tone changed, words sharpened.
“The Paladin Nation has to be diligent, dear Socket. Sometimes we have to come to Nature’s aid, to weed out her mistakes.”
Most of the hovering traffic moved toward the thundering flashes that continued to shake the floor. The timeslicing spark glittered in my gut, moving on its own, trying to get my attention.
“Great, Broak,” I said. “You’re making total sense, I’m in total agreement with you, but I’m done with science class and not interested in taking it again. I’ll catch you later.”
“Pivot is a mistake,” Broak said. He was a horrible listener. “But he is useful. You are also a mistake, dear Socket. We clearly don’t know what you are, but you were not designed by gene scientists. You were a fluke of your father’s tinkering. In other words, you are a mutation. There’s a name for mutated DNA.” He took another step. “It’s called cancer.”
“Step away, Broak.” I clenched my fists.
“You see, you threaten me without understanding the message. You are unpredictable and unreasonable.” He turned his head, daringly. “Do you think you can fight me and win? I was designed to fight. I know fourteen styles of hand-to-hand combat. I know every weapon in this room, intimately. It would be foolish to attack me.”
“I can stop time. That’s all I need.”
His jaw muscles tensed and the pressure intensified, dumping adrenaline into my bloodstream. He could beat me in a straight-up fight, I’ll give him that, but what good was that if he couldn’t stop time?
Broak walked down the bench while my emotions boiled. He was getting inside me. I tried to fight the pressure, even opened my mind to read his, but it made things worse. I didn’t know how to close myself from this mental attack. He was manipulating my emotions. He wants me pissed off.
Spindle was in the tower with the supervisor, still looking at whatever was flashing and rumbling. The tower elevated high above to get a better view.
I backed away from the bench, touched my cheek. “Spindle, come for me.”
But he did not hear me. I took another step, every instinct telling me to run. I would walk away, not run. It was the smart thing. I turned—
“They murdered him, you realize,” he said. “Your father.”
My throat tightened.
“His workmanship was ghastly. Mechs leaked fluid, weapons jammed, cars whined. I’m sorry to report that your father was quite pathetic. So the Paladin Nation ordered his death.”
Now I just couldn’t walk away
from that. If he wanted an ass beating, then all right. Let’s talk.
“Murder seems quite drastic, I know,” he said. “But do you know why they did such a thing?” He faked concern, drawing his eyebrows up like he cared. “His incompetence would eventually cost a Paladin his life, dear Socket. It sounds reprehensible to you, I realize, but if you weigh the balance of your father’s life with that of a Paladin’s, it was an easy decision, really. We had to weed out the weak and incompetent. For the good of the human race.”
I was going to break his perfect freaking nose. “You’re lying.”
“You may check the records,” he said. “It’s all there.”
I stopped inches from him. The timeslice spark crackled. “I don’t know what your game is, dear Broak, but I’ll give you one last chance to end it. Then I’m breaking your teeth.”
“I told you, I’m simply here to deliver a message.” He did not flinch. “I just want you to understand.”
“I understand, all right. You don’t have parents and you got some unconscious ax to grind but you don’t know who to blame. So you pick me, the one with no dad, and open that wound to make yourself feel better. You’re coping with subconscious pain. You’re projecting it onto me. However the therapist wants to explain it to you, you need help. I suggest you get it before something goes wrong. Before you get dirty.”
Broak was expressionless. He worked his lips but stopped the words. I was on the verge of timeslicing. He could feel it. The spark burned, tendrils of energy pulsing through my nervous system. My fingers dug deep into my palm.
Socket 1-3 - The Socket Greeny Saga Page 9