The Unlicensed Consciousness

by Travis Borne

  Herald and Rafael kept a good many things to themselves. Herald didn’t tell Ana every single thing either. She trusted him and didn’t want to know every detail; decisions about what they would do, and how, when the time came, was up to him, mostly. He was attempting to give humanity a chance, although much of him had decided, ultimately, that he still hated humanity, especially now, seeing what it had become. But he would still try his best. Like the endeavor at Meddlinn—seemingly impossible, then—but he’d conquered that. Could he, even with the help of his extraordinary friend, conquer this too? Where most civilizations fail (according to Rafael’s calculations the percentage that survives is merely a handful, literally—the odds were by far against them), could he actually succeed with this? The challenge was much the same but the stakes were higher. He had a family now, friends worth saving, and there was more on the line than money or any personal conquest.

  Following Herald’s laid-back lead, Jon changed his mind as well—before the joint was totally cashed. The three of them ended up comfortably numb, relaxing on the porch, gently rocking in their chairs. Jodi knew exactly which strain to choose and it hit the spot after a long night of apocalyptic talk.

  They heard a noise behind them. It was Valerie.

  She walked down the winding path from cabin #3, holding hands with Jerry. It was obvious she had been crying all night. Last night, she had left early with Jerry, before 11 p.m.; she couldn’t take it anymore yet still didn’t get much sleep. Jerry had fixed her up real good in the morning, country style, but her crying resumed as she reached the porch; she worried about her family and could not stop thinking about them. Halting at the steps, she begged Herald to save them, and swiftly, he agreed. Maybe it was the excellent cannabis sativa (coincidentally named Purple Conundrum), maybe not. She hugged him and her tears became that of temporary happiness.

  Their moment of joy was interrupted by something with an aroma of goodness. Ana had been waiting for the two; she had breakfast ready. Again, Rafael had helped her. They had eggs, bacon, blueberry pancakes, the works. Everyone went inside to eat and over the meal discussed a plan to fit in the new decision.

  Herald said they couldn’t take to the air until Wednesday morning the 17th. Rafael warned of being a predetermined target, and for now the cabins and secret bunkers were unknown, or so they hoped, but nothing was beyond doubt; the whole world could be bugged, and likely was. So—they would wait, no choice about it. They’d contact Valerie’s parents as late as possible, keeping outbound transmissions minimal and hidden within the static of elevated worldwide confusion, decide on a rendezvous location, then fly in for the save before the launch. He told them of an even larger bunker farther up the mountain, revealing that it contained two hover-jets which could get there relatively quickly. The plan was to take one ship, use its blocker for stealth flying, and head back as quickly as possible after accomplishing what needed to be done. Then, wait. After the first waves had passed—providing the key project they’d built would work as intended—they would build. Build, build, fucking build.

  Valerie still had much despair, she had a large family but only two could be saved. Herald said he would pick up only her parents—for he couldn’t spare any more space—and offered a single blocker for her remaining family; her brother would be the one to receive it. She was grateful to Herald, but prayed that somehow, he could be wrong about this whole damn mess.

  Herald might’ve had some ulterior motives leading him to attempt the daring rescue—besides already having other necessary drop-offs and a pick-up on his schedule. Valerie had mentioned something, she’d spoken loosely last night after getting wasted—something she really needed. The story was clear enough to pique Herald’s interest. She said he’d trekked to the border many times and would be gone for weeks on end. He became obsessed and they thought he’d gone loco. Her father, Felix was his name, had these visions or so he said, and ended up hiding himself and his wife Rosita from the cleansing in a homemade bunker. He had tried to get all of the family to make the trip to the little pueblo, his hometown in Mexico, but no one believed him, nor wanted to.

  Herald’s eyes lit up, as did Rafael’s, brightly. He pondered the idea all night because he knew it was next to impossible to find more lenders after the cleansing. Without the ability to dream they were useless. Although, Rafael had a contingency plan in the works, something involving a black bag, a possible way to take advantage of non-dreamers, but it was far from ready, an untested idea at best. So, he had to try. They desperately needed more lenders. The cleansing had so dubiously thrown a wrench in Herald’s early plans but there’s always a way if there’s a will—and he had that.

  95. Specifically Personal

  It was a normal morning—until breakfast. Jon switched on the TV after being ejected from his seat by the first bite of Rafael’s delicious but muy caliente green chili and egg burrito. He waved his hand, fanning the flames then stifled his pain after being shocked stiff by the news. Nancy Nichols, CEO of Meddlinn Technologies Corporation, was found murdered in the bedroom of her Pasadena Mansion. Her six male-oriented bots claimed there had been a glitch in their systems, that they were shut down for the night, leaving no record of the incident. The scene was brutal: her body was contorted, propped up onto her knees, ass in the air, mouth agape and the edges of her lips were torn, her eyes had been pushed deep into her skull, and blood so dark it neared the color purple, soaked the sheets around her head and knees, and, her entire backside and face had whip marks, some of which were inches deep. She’d apparently been sexually assaulted and sodomized repeatedly, which, eventually led to her death. There was no sign of forced entry and the crime scene was limited to her bedroom where many slimed sex toys and torture devices had been found. On screen a cop held one of the wiggly and weighty rubber dongs with a pair of tongs and placed it, goo and all, into an evidence bag. Apparently, she was deep into sadism and for years had used the objects to torture her bots for the sake of her own pleasure. Investigators declared they would continue looking into the case but thus far had no helpful info from the bots, nor from residents of her quiet, upper-class neighborhood.

  “It has begun,” Herald said, after the report finished, knowing he wouldn’t have discovered this interesting tidbit had it not been for his friends—the TV was and had always been, for them; the urge to smash it beckoned him every day since Rafael had installed it a week ago.

  Ana placed a plate in front of Herald then put a hand over her mouth and turned away. Her trust for Herald went deep; she knew—this was it. Seeing the gruesome news solidified the disgusting reality of what was on the way. She said, “Is that—”

  “Yes.” Herald nodded. She’d learned quite a bit about Meddlinn, and had even met Nancy.

  “Can you believe it—Nancy!” Jon exclaimed. “Do you really think the bots—it would be a first—ever!”

  “That one was a freak,” Jerry said. “I gave her some advice years ago, and man, she really took it. Her husband liked it, for a while, until she got those bots that is. She was actually a good customer, until then.” Valerie sent him a stern look; she’d convinced him to sell Titan’s Pleasurables. And he knew she didn’t like hearing about her man giving sexual advice to other women. Since moving in with him, she’d become a little bit jealous.

  “Looks like a case of targeted revenge,” Jon said, taking another, pluck-out-the-pepper-first, bite. The media laid it all out, for not much was censored after 2020. The gruesome image should’ve ruined his meal; it might have before, back then, but it didn’t now. Like billions, he’d become desensitized.

  Rafael didn’t quite understand. He knew there would be mass coordination but hadn’t figured the machines would be specifically personal, or risk exposing themselves earlier than the day—but they did, and did they ever. The scene was too graphic, leaving even him with much disgust, followed by unwanted thoughts of his previous self. He pushed his plate away.

  The rest of the day was tranquil—with the TV off. Ho
rrendous things were coming to pass but they wanted to savor their final two days. Jerry enjoyed the outdoors with Val, who tried to keep her mind busy. He fished mostly, and spent time with Amy, teaching her. Ana conversed with Jodi on a picnic blanket while enjoying the fresh mountain air. The sky was clear, and again the day was oddly warm.

  96. Preparations

  They rode the elevator to the highest-level bunker, a hangar. Herald opened the bay door which was well obscured by forest, then he and Jon, assisted by Rafael, began prepping the hover-jet with supplies for Wednesday, getting a force of bots ready for travel. Herald loaded one of the largest black robots; he called them Builders. He said they were strong enough to lift a bus and crush it into a cube. The one he chose was named Valdus, Herald called him Vlad for short. Then he loaded two of the white human-sized bots, similar to Rafael. He called them Helpers. The two he chose were named Jay and Hal. Helpers were skilled medics, pilots, and general assistants that could perform a wide range of tasks. Next, they loaded eight of the mini red-and-black robots, which he called Flippers. Herald explained that Flippers were excellent acrobats, great distractions in battle, and could hover-jump great distances. Aside from the humanoid-shaped bots, he loaded several flying drones no larger than a spare tire and no thicker than a fist. He called them Buzzers. Titanium blades folded into their sides, blades that could rotate at high velocity around their central dome shape. Impact with an object had the effect of a wood-splitter combined with a chainsaw. The buzzers also housed cameras that could be used for long-distance visuals and surveillance. He stacked them in a space designed to fit ten, where they could be ejected from the ship. Introducing these, Herald pointed to a log pile outside. Dissimilar to a traditional wood pile, there were hundreds of three-inch precision-cut slices. Jon got the idea.

  Inside the craft were two sealed casings, black like sleek tinted-glass coffins. From tomorrow on, all computers would be susceptible to infection. There could never again exist any safely. So, two lenders would be dreaming in order to empower the bots and computational systems of the ship during their mission. The ship had a weaker ability to magnify the feed and make full use of it, compared to the facility inside the bunker, and additional sedative measures would be used to ensure undisturbed sleep. If both lenders were to awaken, the ship’s relatively small feed buffer would kick in, allowing the systems to operate minimally for about ten minutes before having to set down. Complex computations necessary for flight required full use of the systems in hover or slow mode but Herald had modified the jet so there could be human-piloted flight in high-velocity jet-mode, the only way to pilot the ship entirely independent of the automation systems; because it was a hover-jet, this would work only at speeds capable of employing the ship’s aerodynamics to generate lift.

  After prepping the hover-jet, the three of them ate lunch. The camouflaged bay port remained open and they sat on the edge of its concrete lip. Delicious, majestic. Overlooking the lake from far higher than the cabin, the view was to die for. And Ana had made them, even Rafael, some tasty weenie-burritos out of diced hot dogs and peppery spaghetti sauce. Herald finished then went back inside and Jon stayed with Rafael who slyly pretended to make his burrito vanish. A slight warm breeze came by, fluttering the forest and Jon’s thick hair. He had another million questions lined up after having seen the inside of the ship.

  “Sleeping passengers…to empower the systems, insane,” Jon said. “Why not leave them here, and broadcast?”

  “The feed is very special, Jon. We’re just learning how it can be used, and transferred. Herald and I have been working on a remote-transmit lending system, capable of sending the feed hundreds of thousands of miles, discreetly, but it’s not quite ready—we lack a very special part from a special friend.” He continued to explain that they planned on finishing that and much more upon their return. The to-do list was never ending, challenging both he and Herald to, and beyond, the limits of possibility.

  Then, Rafael made something very clear about his friend Herald. He said many times he’d given up on the thought, that even his powerful hyper-processing mind became dizzy. For this reason, he highly respected Herald. How can one do anything without using a computer in a computer-saturated world, much less save humanity, in a world where almost any device would soon become susceptible to the infectious nature of the insidious and soon-to-be-deadly AI?

  “The LENDERS are the solution, Jon, an idea conceived by a mortal human man, my best friend, in the cold basement of a Rocky Mountain cabin.”

  97. Meltdown

  Jon covertly managed to keep a watchful eye on the news for the rest of the day while helping Herald, who contrarily, didn’t care to see any of it. Reporters had a field day with Nancy’s murder but soon many others followed. All of the victims, rich or famous in one way or another, had been raped to death, left in obscene positions and mutilated, and still no evidence could single out a suspect. By nightfall the atrocities, all with analogous details, numbered in the hundreds.

  But the big story aired at 4 p.m. Mountain time, live on every channel throughout the world. A circle of five coastal nuclear power plants exploded in China, south of Beijing, killing millions. The explosion happened while they were most vulnerable. The surrounding plants had been operating at full capacity for over a month and were about to flash start the world’s largest fusion generator, which was constructed on manmade islands in the Bohai Bay. Smaller ones already in use could self-stabilize but this was just another part of mankind's attempt to conquer, control, say look at me, look at what I have created, then move on to the next big thing. All of the surrounding metropolises were decimated, millions vaporized.

  Quickly the cause was found. A virus—something that hadn’t been seen in computers since 2020—had infected the operational systems. For reasons unknown, it suddenly disabled every failsafe, thus preventing the reactor from cooling, which in turn led to a full-blown and synchronous meltdown. The explosion in turn triggered positive destabilization in the fusion reactor and detonated the core. The combined explosion flattened everything within 200 miles and evaporated the surrounding sea. The Richter scale measured 9.8 and Korea and much of China prepared for the worst tidal wave in history by means of mass evacuations.

  The virus had also managed to infect other plants around the world but luckily specialists were able to pinpoint and squash it before more damage could be done. The story swamped every news station; chaos became rampant.

  Rumors regarding a reemergence of terrorism—that which finally ended after the final straw, when London so nearly swallowed a dirty bomb—flooded social media. Back then, extreme measures were allowed and executed. They, governments of the world, called it The Wipe. Every individual extremist, entire groups and organizations, were once and for all extirpated with the help of war machines powered by Meddlinn’s AI. Terrorism finally came to a quick and abrupt end. People were fearful because this new catastrophe had similar magnitude, likewise a similar eerie feeling. The Wipe, while it was absolutely effective, was eventually decided to have been more harsh than the problem itself. Terrorism, hence, was the last thing anyone wanted—especially after five years of world peace like no other time in history.

  98. Tuesday

  By Tuesday morning things were still buzzing about the meltdown in China. But globally, things were under control. Anti-radiation bombs had been detonated in the atmosphere, neutralizing the radioactive fallout and the first rough estimates came back: sixteen-million dead, and counting. Half of the morning news talked about the reactor explosions, the other half spoke about Wednesday morning’s launch. WARP-1 was ready and on track to go, still undeterred. The murders had only a sliver of air time but nevertheless continued, all with the same grotesque statistics: high-profile celebrities and rich executives, raped to death—still lacking a single string of evidence, no suspects, and the count was over one thousand. With more murders than the news could cover they started to get overshadowed by the larger stories. A few began to sus
pect the bots, but such talk was mostly dismissed by leaders, and they were branded as conspiracy theorists. There were also rumors blaming a new-world super virus. Most, in denial and disbelief, simply fooled themselves and turned a blind eye.

  Jerry spent a great deal of time with Amy outdoors on this final day. He continued teaching her tips about fishing: tying knots, digging for worms, but most of all, how to be quiet. She was a fast learner, although the being-quiet part was by far the most difficult. Her little fingers soon tied her first fishing knot then she learned how to hook a worm. Earthworm juice squirted onto her cheeks, making her laugh. It grossed Jodi out, and nauseated Valerie. But Jerry was getting the knack for it—teaching—and enjoyed it; equally he loved spending time with Amy.

  The end of her rod wiggled. “Got one, Jerry!” He caught her just in time and helped her reel it in. Amy giggled the entire time.

  He and Val didn’t have kids but had thought about it numerous times. Valerie was firm on getting married first and he, was hesitant. But after only a few days at the cabin, he decided—he did want kids. He looked over at Val. She was sitting on a boulder, overlooking the lake while holding her knees close to her body. She only stared, blankly across the lake. As if she felt his gaze, she turned her head and sent a forced smile his way. Her long black hair swayed in a gentle breeze; she didn’t bother to clear it from her face. Her tears had dried but the bags under her eyes were puffy and dark. Surely, she won’t want kids now, he thought, we’d never be able to in this fucked-up world. Will we even be alive to try? Should we? Can we all survive? It would be cruel to the child. Herald told him about the blocker, years ago—a chance he’d said—and he never forgot, but it wasn’t like him to dwell on things. Actually, he never thought what Herald had predicted would or could really happen. He did still have it, though, poking from the pocket of his jeans. Herald made sure to remind each of them to bring it along. So, things are going to get scary. But I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them safe, he thought, almost out loud. And again, he looked over to the woman he loved. I love you, Val. Deep down, he always wanted to marry her, and now, could kick his own ass for never getting around to it.