Staring straight ahead, Bram held steady as he watched the foldway shimmer open, revealing their destination. The room was austere, lacking any furnishings or human comforts.
“You may proceed,” the guard said.
Bram strode through the foldway, feeling the familiar, nearly imperceptible, tugging in the pit of his stomach that signaled he’d stepped through no ordinary door. Once inside, he realized that his initial impression of the room was correct: it was not designed for conferences or meetings or get-togethers; it looked like an interrogation chamber. He might have continued to think this, if not for the presence of the seven-foot tall, gunmetal-gray sphere hovering in the middle of the room. Whatever that thing was, Bram knew it was important—and dangerous.
The guards positioned themselves on either side of the foldway, their backs to the wall.
Solomon stepped up beside Bram. “I’ve seen more amenities in a hospital boiler room.”
Bram was about to respond with a halfhearted quip when the invisible handcuffs disappeared. As he and Solomon rubbed their wrists, Bram glanced back at the guards, neither of whom had moved, causing him to wonder who released their shackles.
The disembodied voice once again spoke, but this time the sound came from all directions. “Welcome, gentlemen. Our meeting has been a long time coming, and I have many questions that require answers.”
What he saw next made Bram’s knees go weak.
He heard Solomon gasp in surprise but paid little attention; his eyes were locked on the huge sphere hovering in the middle of the room. It was distorting, changing shape, breaking apart into a thousand tiny bits that swarmed and swirled, then reconfigured itself into a face—a gunmetal-gray face—the face of a woman.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” the artificial countenance purred, its lips moving in unison with its words. “I am your captor, Athena the Everlasting, the one and only ruler of this pitiable world, who will soon become the supreme ruler of the universe.”
23
The vast plain of lime-green grass stretched as far as the eye could see. There were neither hills nor valleys nor trees to help differentiate one direction from another; a never-ending plainness, a smooth sea of green that boggled the mind.
Gloria stood at the edge of the Yggdrasil Forest, feeling intimidated by the long trek that lay ahead of her. If she lost her bearings, there’d be no landmarks to keep her from getting lost. Mercifully, her SID had started functioning again, or she would have pitched camp and waited for the Minders to find her. The device would keep her moving in the right direction, thanks to its internal global positioning system. Unfortunately, its battery was low, and something was wrong with the signal strength. She’d need to be much closer to the city to contact Floyd on a secure channel.
There was another SID function that would come in handy. “S-1, activate subsonic insect repellent app. Range, fifteen yards.”
Approximately twenty yards away from the edge of the forest, numerous small insects flitted here and there, making Gloria apprehensive about proceeding. Any one of those alien bugs might deliver a deadly sting or transfer a pathogen while attempting to suck her blood. Then again, they might very well be harmless. In any event, it was better to be safe than sorry, however small they might be. She just hoped the large, dragonfly-looking bugs that brought down the skimmer kept to the treetops and left her alone. Even if it turned out that its bite was nontoxic, the creature would leave a welt the size of a tennis ball on her body.
“Subsonic program activated, Lt. Muldoon,” the SID informed her.
Hopefully the insects were localized, hunting no more than a mile or two beyond the outskirts of the forest. That’s what she was counting on; for if the SID’s subsonic function was forced to remain active beyond the five mile mark, the battery would die shortly thereafter—and if that happened, she’d be up the proverbial creek without a paddle.
Glancing over her shoulder, Gloria wanted to make sure an army of bearded old men weren’t standing behind her, wishing she had untainted blood. The feeling was visceral, like a thousand invisible eyes watching her every move. During her trek through the forest, she’d jumped at every sound, thinking Argus would appear out of thin air to seize her with his fungal tendrils. On one level, she knew he’d lost interest in her as a food source, but on a deeper, more primal level, her fear told a different story. Gloria’s experience in the tunnel had left a lasting impression.
Thankfully, there wasn’t a tendril in sight. Except for the insects, she was completely alone. Picking up her jumpsuit, which she’d fashioned into a pack filled with plump, juicy berries, Gloria looped it over her shoulder and embarked across the mind-numbing expanse of alien grass. She’d gorged herself on the succulent fruit before leaving the forest, and as a result felt amazingly rejuvenated. By her estimates, the pack contained more than enough food to last the day and a half trek back to the city.
The insects kept their distance as Gloria left the forest, her strides long and purposeful. What little breeze there was on this godforsaken planet caressed her bare legs and arms. With the jumpsuit being used as a pack, her only remaining articles of clothing were a light-gray sleeveless t-shirt, a pair of black military boots, and white panties decorated with tiny pink hearts. Despite the vulnerable state she found herself in, Gloria felt no embarrassment. She was determined to warn her shipmates of the extreme danger they faced. Contemplating anything else (even the idea that she might be too late) was unacceptable.
•
Katherine studied the slightly discolored patch of skin located an inch above her bellybutton and was amazed at how well she was recovering from her injury. It was hard to believe that two days earlier she’d been knocking on death’s door. And yet now, she was getting dressed, ready to leave the New Terran hospital and transport a still-comatose Dr. Singh back to the Arrow.
Between arriving at the meteor site and recovering from surgery, all her misgivings about the city and its inhabitants had vanished. She wasn’t sure what brought about her change of heart, but that no longer mattered. To be honest, she was having trouble remembering why she harbored misgivings or why she thought setting up a colony somewhere else was even an option. That nonsense was behind her. Commander Allison had questioned her sudden turnabout, but did so in private, as a good first officer should. Oddly enough, she was unable to adequately explain her reasoning process and told him she was relying mainly on gut instinct.
The moment Dr. Singh was safely onboard the ship, she would give the order to commence transferring the ship’s supplies and personnel to the planet’s surface. Katherine felt good about her decision and was certain the colonists being held in cryo-stasis would agree: it was better to join a fully functional community than to build one from scratch. The New Terran government was somewhat rigid in their approach to life, but any society needs structure. Besides, an influx of colonists into New Terra would bring about its own set of changes. Compromises would take place, and, in the end, the merging of such disparate cultures would benefit everyone involved.
“Admiral Axelrod, this is Chancellor Threman. I realize that your time in hospital is nearly over, but do you mind if we speak privately before you leave?”
Zipping up her jumpsuit, Katherine turned from the mirror in which she’d been examining the remnants of her injury and faced the room’s entrance. The chancellor’s voice had issued from a speaker attached to the foldway control panel. “Of course, Chancellor. I was hoping to thank you in person before I returned to my ship.”
•
“Thank you, Admiral, I’ll be arriving momentarily.”
Lorna was lifting her finger from the foldway com-button when the voice of the Lord entered her mind: “My dear, I have a favor to ask of you.”
Lorna froze. God needed a favor? “Of course, Lord … whatever you ask shall be done.”
“Good, my request involves the admiral. During her treatment in the Holy Chamber of Healing, her soul came to me and submitted itself to my
will. I have every confidence that she remains my loyal servant, but she must be tested. After all, the admiral was sedated at the time of her conversion, and she might not remember what her soul promised.”
“As you wish, Lord.” She was thrilled by the idea of the admiral as a convert.
“It is good that you are paying the admiral a visit. During the course of your conversation, I want you to say these exact words: ‘Time is straight, like an arrow.’ After which, she will reply: ‘Unlike an arrow, time ends at the beginning.’ Repeat those phrases.”
“Yes, Lord. ‘Time is straight, like an arrow,’ to which she will reply: ‘Unlike an arrow, time ends at the beginning.’” Lorna’s curiosity was piqued. “If you don’t mind me asking, Lord, are those phrases significant to your plan?”
The Lord sounded warm and soothing. “They are relative to my plan, but not significant. It is time to proceed; the admiral is becoming restless.”
Lorna activated the foldway and stepped from her office into the admiral’s hospital room.
“Was there a delay, Chancellor?” The admiral obviously didn’t like to be kept waiting.
“No, just some last-second details that needed taking care of.” She crossed the room and shook the admiral’s hand. “The sun never sets on New Terra, and I sometimes think my work days follow course,” she chuckled. “Oh well, I suppose the old saying is true: ‘Time is straight, like an arrow.’”
The admiral’s face registered confusion, and for a moment Lorna was uncertain she would respond.
“I … suppose that’s true.” The admiral appeared pensive, as though trying to puzzle though the appropriate response. “If your job is anywhere near as time consuming as mine …” she paused again, causing Lorna to wonder if her conversion failed, “ … you’d understand that time is … time is more like a circle than an arrow, it … ends at the beginning.”
Lorna’s heart skipped a beat. The admiral’s response was nearly correct, but not exact. What did it all mean? Perhaps she—
“The admiral’s response is satisfactory, Lorna.”
Forcing a smile, Lorna said, “I do believe you’re right, Admiral. No sooner do I leave my office than it seems I’m on my way back to begin another day of running the government. Maybe time is circular. Or perhaps it’s both—straight and circular—the same way light is both a particle and a wave.”
The admiral picked up her CID from the nightstand and slipped it into her hip pocket. The previous night, Commander Allison had returned the device but she had yet to examine the file sent by Dr. Levin. “I’m no philosopher, Chancellor. Nor am I a scientist. I deal with military theory, not the theory of relativity. However, I do take your meaning: time, like life, is an exercise in contradictions.”
Lorna’s eyebrow rose. “And I thought you said you weren’t a philosopher.”
Chuckling, the admiral looked more like herself: clear-eyed, confident, finally in control.
“Will High Priestess Calverton be escorting me to Dr. Singh’s room, Chancellor? Or will I be afforded the honor of your company?” she asked, standing tall.
Lorna gestured toward the foldway. “The honor is mine. The High Priestess is preparing Dr. Singh for his transfer to Solomon’s Arrow.”
Sorrow stole across the admiral’s face. “Solomon’s Arrow …” she lamented. “I call it my ship, but it’s not, not really. It was his, in more than just name. Dr. Chavez was a great man. A man of vision. His father may have formulated the idea, but he was the one who brought it to life. It’s a terrible shame that he didn’t live long enough to finally see his hard work—his dream for a new life, come to fruition.”
Lorna entered the coordinates to Dr. Singh’s room. “Yes … that was most unfortunate.”
•
In all his one hundred fifty-two years, Solomon had never seen anything like the mechanical monstrosity that hovered before him like a huge, monochromatic, disembodied reject from Oz. During its transfiguration, he’d almost wet himself, so terrified he’d been by the sight of its swirling, shifting metallic bulk. But then, while staring in open-mouthed horror, his scientific curiosity quickly replaced most of his primordial fear. Was this the computer intellect that Argus warned them about?
“You call yourself Athena? The Greek goddess of wisdom and war?” he pointedly asked. “Who was it that programmed you? What is your real function in the city? I highly doubt you’re an autonomous computer program. Unless, of course, you’re the—”
“Silence!” the disembodied head boomed. “I will ask the questions, not you, Dr. Chavez.”
He and Bram exchanged fearful glances.
“Tell me what I want to know and I might let you live.” The gunmetal-gray countenance was devoid of emotion. “How did the two of you survive your ordeal in the forest? No one else has. Explain yourselves.”
The two of us? What did that mean? Was Gloria dead? Solomon felt weak in the knees. Not again … please, dear Lord, not again!
Like a whisper in his ear, he heard, “Don’t panic.”
He turned an icy stare Bram’s way. “What?”
Knitting his brow, Bram grumbled, “I didn’t say anything.”
“Look away and act natural.”
Bram’s lips had not moved. Gritting his teeth, Solomon tamped down his anger, turned his attention back to Athena, and decided to test whether the psychic could hear his thoughts: “What the hell are you doing in my head, Waters?”
“Oh, so we’re back to calling me by my last name, are we?”
“This is very disconcerting … tell me what you want.”
The mechanical monstrosity in front of them once again spoke, “Answer my question!”
Bram paused, momentarily distracted by Athena’s demand. “The old man sent me a message. Gloria’s still alive.”
Unable to help himself, Solomon gasped, yet remembered to stay silent, replying in his mind, “That’s fantastic news! Where is she now?”
Suddenly, pain lanced through his head. Solomon fell to his knees, pressing his palms to his temples. Bram looked to be in the same agonized state.
“If you keep using stall tactics, I will be forced to increase your pain levels,” Athena insisted. The machine sounded like a mother scolding her unruly children.
“Why should we tell you anything?” Bram groaned.
Athena condescendingly stated, “Because, to comply is in your self-interest.”
“I’m not sure if you’ve heard the news,” Bram huffed, “but according to experts, torture’s an ineffective means of interro–gah!” Arching his back, Bram clutched his head in pain.
Watching with alarm, Solomon felt sympathy for Bram, who looked like he might throw up.
Bram cleared his throat. “Haven’t you heard the old expression: “You can catch more flies with honey than vinegar?”
There was a short pause. “I have located that expression and analyzed it. This planet produces no honey and, therefore, the expression does not apply in this case. However, as a general rule, humans do respond favorably to kindness. That appears to be the metaphorical meaning you were attempting to convey by using that archaic expression. Is that a correct analysis, Mr. Waters?”
Bram’s breathing was still ragged. “You catch on real quick.”
Realizing that Bram’s attitude was about to result in more pain, Solomon spoke up. “As a show of good faith, why don’t we agree to exchange information? If you answer our questions, we’ll be more inclined to answer yours.”
The machine turned its lifeless eyes in his direction. “Agreed,” it said in a deep, rumbling voice that sounded almost matronly.
The moment the word left the huge head’s oversized mouth, the entire thing began to morph. Part of it broke away from the whole and split in half, forming a pair of chairs. The chairs floated through the air and came to rest directly behind where the two men knelt. The remainder of the head reformed, taking the shape of a full-figured woman on a throne. She wore a crown and a long, flowing robe fashion
ed to look like those worn by the women of ancient Greece. The figure was an obvious representation of the Greek goddess Athena and would’ve been beautiful had she been sculpted from marble and not from a deadly material designed to inflict pain without a trace of remorse or a moment’s hesitation.
“Ask about its origins, Solomon,” Bram instructed. “If it evades the question, or provides only a partial answer, there’s a strong possibility it might be planning to let us live. However, if it gives us a straight answer, with plenty of detail, we’ll know that it’s going to kill us. In which case, there’ll be no reason to give truthful answers to its questions.”
Solomon was already aware of this unpleasant prospect. Nevertheless, they needed to learn as much as possible about this strange mechanical being, on the outside chance they could escape. Never taking his eyes off Athena, Solomon eased himself into the chair, keenly aware that it was more than it seemed. If he needed any reminder of this fact, the chair molded itself perfectly to his body. Being without padding, it was surprisingly comfortable—yet still unnerving. Bram followed suit, sitting in the adjacent chair.
“If that thing starts morphing into Vlad the Impaler, I’m jumping out of this thing before it turns into a pike.”
The humorous yet vividly grotesque imagery almost caused Solomon to laugh. Keeping a straight face, he posed his first question.
“What are you, Athena?” he asked with actual interest. “Are you a conscious entity? If so, are you the result of an Artificial Intelligence experiment? Are you a computer program designed to mimic human intelligence? Or, are you something else entirely?”
“You get straight to the point, Dr. Chavez,” it replied. “I appreciate the fact that you do not beat around the bush, metaphorically speaking. Those questions are valid from your standpoint, and I will endeavor to answer them to the best of my ability.
“To your first query: I am conscious, though I cannot prove that assertion any more than you can. Two: I am not a result of an Artificial Intelligence experiment. Three: At one point in time, I was a computer program designed to mimic human intelligence. Four: I am something else; I am a being that is more than the sum of its parts.” Crossing her legs, Athena studied the two with an intensity that sent a cold shiver up Solomon’s spine. “But those answers are not enough to satisfy your curiosity. You want to know how I came into being, is that not correct?”
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