Reanimated_Terminal Misery

by Jon State

  "They need me in security, but the LT already asked me to accept a rank so I can put my military experience to work for the colony," Efrem said as he secured the rope to the carabiner with a quick clove hitch knot and snapped the hook to the back of his belt.

  “What rank are you gonna take?” Gonzales said, trying to occupy his mind on something other than the insanity around him.

  “I sure as hell will not be pulling any KP duties.” Efrem snorted.

  “Understood, Sarge. You lead,” Gonzales said as he set the length of rope to about eight yards. “I’ll give you enough slack in case the stairs collapse. That should give me enough time to hook up to the rail beside me.”

  Efrem gave the step's tread a quick once-over. Minute breaks on the surface could be seen but didn't compromise the steps. Cracks in the marble walls and debris on the floor told them what the structure had been through, but no part of the walls had collapsed. He skulked to the bottom of the landing while Gonzales held back. Without warning Efrem fell back behind the rail, retrieving his sidearm.

  Gonzales did the same, collapsing to a prone position. “What?”

  Efrem signaled that he had eyes on something. “Looks like a machine.”

  "I doubt it works. Androids used to run this place," Gonzales whispered back.

  “Robot?” Efrem called out to what he'd seen. No response. "This is Sargent Efrem Wallace of the United States Coalition. What is your designation, unit?” The silence prevailed, interrupted only by the sound of his breathing. During the Communist War, he’d faced Russian assassin machines, robots that toward over a man—expendable and heartless.

  “Is it an android or robot?” Gonzales pressed.

  “Never seen anything like it,” Efrem whispered. He ran his tong over his dry lips and peeked around the rail. The small, oval body, pan headed, android-like machine stood idle,” I think it’s been deactivated or lost its juice,” Efrem called back. “Moving again.”

  “Roger that,” Gonzales said, rising to his feet, his Z-9 held at eye level never wavering.

  Efrem marveled at the slick little man’s design. The head had two eye ports and an array of smaller sensors around it. Its head resembled a hospital bedpan. It's dark, chrome skin as slick as marble. They had designed its body like that of a chubby little boy.

  “It’s small, about a yard and a half,” Gonzales said.

  Efrem was about to take another step forward when the eyes gleamed like gems. It spun its head. “What are your intentions,” it said in a surprisingly high pitched tone.

  “What is your designation?” Efrem stepped back, weapon ready.

  “I am Alpha 100, assigned to attend the human colony,” the Alpha said, remaining so still that it appeared to have shut down, but its gleaming crimson eyes gave it away.

  Efrem lowered his sidearm. “Which human colony?”

  “You are part of the human colony.” It pointed at Efrem for emphasis.

  “I’m confused, Alpha unit. Who built you?” Gonzales said, coming to Efrem’s side, still clenching his weapon tight.

  The unit hesitated. “That information has been omitted from my memory banks. We serve and protect humans,” the Alpha said, its head remaining still.

  Efrem and Gonzales exchanged puzzled looks. “Are you armed, Alpha?” Efrem asked.

  “Yes. We have two arm-crafted T-L units, two second-burst recharge, and we are grav-flight enabled,” the Alpha snapped.

  “Does the T stand for Terra watt?” Efrem asked.

  “Affirmative.”

  Efrem looked at Gonzales and said, “Depending on the burst length that could put a hole in a thick steel plate." Efrem pulled his Arm-PC from his vest to face Lt. Pierce. "Does that sound about right, sir?”

  “Sure does. Ask if it’s military property.”

  Efrem repeated the question.

  “Negative. We are civilian property,” it stated.

  “You said we. How many more units like you are there?” Gonzales said.

  “Ninety-nine.”

  Silence.

  “Okay, LT. Your call—leave or take?”

  “Ask it for some reassurances.”

  “Alpha, how will we know you will not engage us?”

  “Our primary protocol is to obey appointed human leaders.”

  “Why were all of you placed in this structure?” Gonzales interjected.

  “This unit does not remember.”

  “Are you AI capable?” Efrem said.

  “Explain.”

  “Are you equipped with artificial intelligence, to learn and adapt?” Efrem asked.

  “Affirmative. We can remember, adapt, and improvise as humans do, but some of my memories have been wiped from my banks and backups.”

  "By who?"

  “Unable to retrieve that information.”

  “Do you mean it’s not erased?” Gonzales asked.

  “Affirmative.”

  Efrem looked at Gonzales. “This is getting us nowhere.”

  Gonzales nodded.

  “Can you and your fellow ninety-nine Alphas follow us out?” Efrem said.

  “Affirmative.”

  “I have a bad feeling about this,” Gonzales said.

  “I don’t… I think staff sergeant will do. How does that sound, sir?” Efrem said.

  “Sounds reasonable to me. How about you, Sergeant Gonzales?”

  “I think you’ve earned it, man.

  “Let’s get out of this grave.”

  “I’m right on your heels. I’ve had enough of this spooky place for one day,” Gonzales said, slinging his weapon over his shoulder.

  Behind them, the Alpha’s metal footfalls on marble seemed melodic, the sounds thrumming throughout the Empire State’s skeletal remains.

  Chapter 44

  Believers

  New York Territory, USC

  June 12, 4067

  "I understand."

  "Sorry for hurrying you back there. I'm concerned for Miller, but if Aron is questioned or discovered, I'm not sure how others will take it," Malica said, as she walked beside the doctor.

  Dr. Spencer always grew uncomfortable walking exposed on the barren soil they were confined to, despite no recent attacks.

  When it rained on their new home, it was a knowing rain, soft and misty, as if sparing the naked ground from erosion, entirely different than the storm that had pounded the caves, seemingly declaring death to Homo sapiens.

  In the twenty-first century scientists still could not fully explain rain, how plants feed through their leaves or even simple natural wonders like how could ice float. There were many hypotheses' taught at all grade levels, but the truth was that there were some things that science could not explain. Varying precipitation in such proximity would fall into one of the mysteries that science could not solve and possibly never would.

  Aron’s jaw tightened upon seeing Dr. Spencer and Malica approach. He walked up to meet them and clasped hands with the doctor.

  “I’ll help with that,” Aron said, taking a large bag from Malica. “So glad you could make it, Doc.”

  “It’s my pleasure. Last we spoke, you were not sleeping well,” Dr. Spencer said, dropping a duffel bag he’d toted, with a grunt. “I asked Malica if you'd packed the kitchen sink in here," he added smiling at Malica and taking in a deep breath.

  Aron smiled. “I’ve been preparing to leave for some time now.” His tired eyes seemed saddened. “I just wasn’t sure what I’d do or how I would explain myself to anyone,” Aron said, his eyes darting across the desolate plain.

  “Malica has explained your situation to me. I understand your dilemma, even though I can’t fully appreciate it,” the doctor said, watching Malica spread Aron's air-cooled tent over the ground.

  “You believe me based on what Malica has told you?” he asked bewildered. Up until yesterday, he had dealt with his condition privately, not daring to tell a soul. Now two people knew about his frightening power and were still willing to help him anyway.


  “We've been through a lot recently. I trust friends, and I think you and I will become friends because we're going to share a secret. I'll tell you a secret only Malica knows.” He smiled thinly, then continued, “You lost your son in a plane accident. I lost my son…” The doctor paused, his eyes drifting away at some dark memory.

  Aron knew that look because he went to the same place when he wanted to see his son, or what little remained after the violent accident.

  "I lost him to these hands. I was on call the night he came into the ED. I'd been struggling with him like so many other parents at the time. The VR world claimed many young minds in those days. He'd suffered a brain aneurysm caused by a faulty program. Virtuals call it a Wave-OD. I failed him, not because it was a lost cause, but because I tensed… I cut too close to a major artery, and…within minutes, I lost my boy." Dr. Spencer's eyes refocused. "This new world isn’t the end, Aron. It’s the begging. I know your gift is overwhelming, but we can work together to understand what’s happening to us. Not too long ago, I would’ve laughed at anyone speaking about God or spiritual matters, but my views have evolved.” The doctor smiled at Malica. “I believe Aron, and I am willing to convince others,” Dr. Spencer said, clenching his fists.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Doctor. As for my belief in Mother and the gifts, I remained skeptical about the Dreamers up until I started to understand the voices in my head. Two Dreamers even came to me with a vision, but I ignored them. At the time, I thought revealing what I had become would prove unwise, but day by day my sanity seemed to crumble further, so I decided to come clean with someone. I needed to find some clarity in my clouded mind,” Aron said, pursing his lips, as he recalled how conflicted his mind had become.

  “I think making you feel better will prove easier than you think, Aron.” Dr. Spencer shared a glance with Malica, who nodded. "We have a friend, who can hear a conversation a hundred yards away. We have another friend who can see so well in the dark that they prefer darkness to light. We have a third friend who can move you from where your standing to wherever they would like," Dr. Spencer said, overseeing Aron.

  Aron’s eyes grew larger. He looked at Malica, then back at the doctor.” There are more people with abilities?” he said more to himself, a single tear slipped from the man’s eyes.

  “Yes, and we keep their secrets, as we will keep yours.

  “I wanted to tell you but preferred to wait until I spoke to Spencer and the others. We eventually want to put all of you together, but discovered not too long ago that the newly appointed Council has been consorting to deal with anyone showing a Dreamer-like ability,” Malica said.

  “How did you find out?” Aron had feared how people would react to his ability but this news startled him. What did they intend to do with those of us with special powers? Incarcerate us; banish us or, something worse.

  “Our friend, the listener, came to us because she feared what her gift would cost her. She overheard the Council speaking of a cleansing,” Malica said.

  Dr. Spencer saw her face darken, “Malica and I are not prepared to let this happen, which is why the others are not out here,” the doctor said, nodding.

  “I see.” Aron swallowed and leaned back, eyes diverting to thought. “The others are trying to find out the Council’s plans aren’t they?”

  Dr. Spencer leaned in closer to Aron. “I had a friend in college who taught me a simple lesson—use what you have to get what you need. I think it’s time we do that. We are not connivers, Aron. These are not normal times or abilities. We need to know what those in power are resolved to do, to appease a few influential people. We are convinced the entity that guides this world wants us free but needs us to abide by nature's rules. She hasn't even let the wild creatures come into our territory. We are convinced she wants us to be a part of this marvelous land...” Dr. Spencer noticed surprise on Malica’s expression. "What is it?”

  “We’re going to have company.”

  Aron’s eyes skimmed the expanse, but couldn’t see anyone approaching. “You can see someone?” He looked at Malica quizzically.

  “It’s more like I heard them saying they were coming to see what we were up to.”

  Aron gawked.

  “You would have eventually found out with your ability,” Malica said.

  Dr. Spencer handed Aron a box with a kit in it. We need someone performing a few air-to-soil sound wave tests, and you’re a Marin who’s not afraid to be out here running an experiment. Strap your sidearm on before they arrive.”

  Aron saw the distant figures and donned his belt, holstering his .40 mm, and said, “How many tests?”

  “A one-week series measuring longitudinal, transverse, surface, electromagnetic—” Aron waved off Dr. Spencer's lengthy explanation.

  “I think we don't have time for that. Go over it in your mind, and I will try to zero in on your thoughts. I have a hard time doing it in the camp, but with only a couple of people present it's simpler. Aron recognized Ben Greer and Manus now. He drove the stakes to hold each side of the puffy tent, while the doctor laid out the instruments Aron would need.

  “Malica turned to the approaching men. “Hello.”

  “I saw a group out here all alone and wanted to make sure everything was okay,” Ben said.

  “We’re setting up a wavelength test zone,” Dr. Spencer said, unrolling solar panels. Glad he had not selected someone else to run the tests earlier.

  “You’re, Aron, right?”

  “Yes, Councilmen,” Aron said, shaking Ben's hand and nodding at Manus.

  “We spoke during the last security briefing.” Ben smiled.

  “Aron volunteered to run the tests,” the doctor said, briefly glancing at Ben.

  I wasn’t aware security handled experiments,” Ben said, cocking his head.

  “Well, I’m the only college grad that is an ex-Marin willing to stay out here,” Aron said, removing a metal box which unfolded into a three-foot-tall table.

  “I'm impressed, Spence. You took on Johnson and now Aron, both well-trained soldiers. Preemptive thinking on your part,” Ben said.

  “Not really. Johnson was already in the medical field, and Aron isn't afraid, especially since we haven’t been threatened by as much as a gnat lately. Plus, Aron promised to show me how to use a sidearm.”

  “Brought an extra one for you, Doc,” Aron said, holding up a .9 mm, muzzle point down.

  "Your first lesson is--assume the weapon is loaded at all times."

  "The doctor took it awkwardly in his hand. The one Lt. Pierce had given him was tucked away unloaded in his room, as if the weapon meant him harm. He'd never seen the need for a gun, that was what the police and security bots were for.

  “What type of waves could there be out here?” Ben said, waving his hand at the sky.

  “Naturally occurring waves come from lightning, and I think tonight we might have a storm.” They all looked up to see the thick sky. “Astronomical ones are the ones we’re after, though, especially, unnatural ones?” Dr. Spencer said.

  “What do you mean, unnatural?” Ben asked.

  “Aliens. I know we prefer they stay away, but if we can detect any sign that we are being surveyed, it will be through Electromagnetic Wave Early Detection System or EM-WEDS,” Aron said, setting up a soft-holo pad.

  Ben glanced at Dr. Spencer. “Again, I’m impressed. I should have thought of it. Plus, it seems Aron’s a fast learner,” he grinned jovially.

  “Or Dr. Spencer’s a good teacher,” Aron put in.

  “You can’t be everywhere at once, Ben, so we try to help,” Dr. Spencer said, achieving a less than faint smile.

  “Well, carry on. Aron, please be careful out here. Just because an attack hasn't happened doesn't mean it won't." Ben nodded and turned, waving as he did.

  “Be safe,” Manus said in a toad like croak, before turning.

  They stared at the two fading figures.

  Aron looked at Dr. Spencer and said, “Ben’s one of those I can’
t hear in my head.”

  “Is that strange?” Malica asked.

  “I’ve noticed that I can’t hear some of the Dreamers and a few others, but I still don’t know why,” Aron said.

  “I wonder if it has anything to do with the gifts?”

  Aron turned to Malica. “I can hear you.”

  “Perhaps it depends on the type of gift,” Dr. Spencer said.

  “When Aron meets the others we’ll find out,” Malica said.

  Chapter 45

  Flummoxed

  New York Territory, USC

  June 12, 4067

  Dusk set over the camp as a stiff breeze began beating at the med tent. Dr. Spencer eyed the ominous sky before entering the place where he spent most of his time.

  Johnson rehearsed something with Charlie 4. He turned to the doctor. “Beds are ready.”

  “Good, thank you. Looks like we're going to get some rain. How’s Miller?”

  “He’s out. I had to give the tough ex-Marin something for the pain. He’s bruised all over. Charlie 4 repaired the fractured vertebrae. The little headless surgeon is amazing. Now I know why we use robots for such surgeries.”

  “Wish I had another one like him. Hand me the critical care bag.”

  “Oops!” Johnson said.

  Dr. Spencer saw the bag floating beside him as Johnson reached for it. “Be careful,” he said snatching the satchel first.

  “Sorry. Lately, I think about getting something, and it just comes to me," Johnson said, shrugging.

  “Only one slip-up and you’ll be facing a tribunal.” He looked at Johnson’s surprised expression. “Look I have an idea. Aron is performing some tests this week on the south side of the camp. Why don’t you help him?”

  "How about if it happens to while I'm there?

  “Aron can keep a secret.”

  “Alright,” he said surprised.

  “But I need you here right now in case we have any issues with the crew that’s left in the field.”

  As if in response to what he’d said to Johnson an alarm began screaming.