The Unlicensed Consciousness

by Travis Borne

  The ship flew east-southeast toward El Paso and quickly outran the police-jets. Herald had to drop the first crate soon, preferably in the mountains beyond Yuma. Things were back on track and good to go. Amy recovered faster than any of the others. Her mom comforted her, but she was fine, very resilient. She became hypnotized by the high-speed flight and was intently focused on enjoying the view.

  “Herald—we have a problem,” Jodi said, putting a hand on his shoulder. He and Ana looked back. Rosita was down, laying in the aisle. Valerie was knelt beside her, crying and holding her hand. Jerry and her husband Felix attempted to give aid. Everyone else was upset and standing over her. Blood covered the seat she’d fallen out of after things had stabilized within the ship.

  “Let him in,” Herald said, jumping out of his chair. Ana took over and slowed the ship. “Hal, assist. Jay, up front now, pilot.” Jerry ripped his shirt off and pushed it into Rosita’s left lung to stop the bleeding. When he applied pressure, blood leaked from her mouth and she coughed out blood, flecking the bright red onto Hal’s white-plastic face. Her eyes drifted like floating balloons, as if she couldn’t focus on anyone or anything above her—as if, she was losing it. “Jerry, move over,” Herald said sternly, unlike his usual self. “Make room for Hal.”

  “She is going to pass,” Hal said after inspecting her thoroughly. “Two minutes, maybe less. There is nothing else that can be done.” Water poured from Valerie’s eyes. Felix attempted to comfort her, himself releasing a dam’s worth.

  He saw their faces and dove into his thoughts. What have I done? Herald knew how skillful the helpers were as medics and if Hal said there was nothing that could be done… But there has to be something I can do, anything! Herald looked around: Amy was still pretending to fly; Ana sat up front, projecting a somber gaze; Jay was steering the ship; Felix moved to cradle Rosita’s head; drenched in tears, Valerie held her hand tightly; Jon sat at the control station, shaking his head slowly; Red, he was fucked up and there was only one lender left, his best lender, Manny, unbelievably still asleep—and one empty bed… Wait a second! He had an idea but had to act fast! She was passing.

  Her eyes rolled into her head.

  Herald burst into action. “Get her on the lender bed, now!” The group didn’t hesitate. The tone of his voice touted leadership, his intrinsic nature emerged as the situation demanded it. They followed his words, unquestionably. If there was any chance, they had to take it. His determined eyes couldn’t be denied, he had something. They carefully lifted her and placed her on the lender bed inside the casing. Herald rushed to the station where Jon was sitting. Jon didn’t hesitate to move aside.

  Hal said, “Herald, she’s—”

  “I have a plan. Something Rafael had been working on. But we have to act fast. Hal, you keep her alive as long you can!” Herald scrolled through lines of code on the screen until he found it.

  Jon remembered how fast he had worked at Meddlinn; he was doing it again, and everyone got a show.

  Valerie and Felix didn’t care about his incredible speed, they just hoped whatever he was doing would save her, but they couldn’t see how.

  “Jon, get her ready to log in, just like I showed you yesterday.” Jon pulled up on the two light pods that were beginning to glow blue and positioned them on her temples. Blood was everywhere, on Jon’s hands and everything he touched. Herald found what he had been looking for and slammed the Enter key. She started convulsing. Hal used his hand to pump her chest but the motions forced up more blood, regardless, he had to keep her heart pumping. The blood poured out of her mouth and nose and her eyes rolled back into her head one final time. In Spanish, Felix spoke next to her, attempting to make her remember a memory they’d shared: the kids when they were young, tough times, but good times. And Valerie held her hand, hoping and praying. Rosita clenched, every muscle tightened…

  Her head fell to the side. Rosita was dead.

  103. The Drop

  Amy was unfazed, in a world of her own, swaying her head and body from side to side with the motions. She didn’t look back during the commotion, because she was flying the ship, but only in her mind. Next to her Jay was the active pilot. Being a bot, he could interface with the ship and fly better than most humans, receiving numerous inputs and views, controlling multiple functions simultaneously. And in his facile manner, he was giving it his best, supersonic into the bright morning sun. He kept it low to the ground, and with a thought command adjusted the window’s tint level. Upon passing over the summit, the morning light had Amy squinting.

  The San Jacinto Mountains. Jay banked south and descended the steep slope toward the Salton Sea. With a giggle Amy sparked at the feeling, like the light-headed momentary weightlessness of a high-speed elevator. And a sparkle in her eyes, too. The colors ahead. Farmlands stamped the earth as if God had done it with a perfectly round stamp. Hundreds of crops, thousands, a mosaic of tans and bright spring greens, and other greens so dark they bordered navy blue. The stamp dipped into every shade of ink. Beyond that, though, not colors. Something bad, grey, rising. Smoke, a world’s worth surging from black to grey, polluting the stratosphere.

  They skimmed the lake a mere six feet above, at Mach-1.25 and mist exploded from the white underbelly. Then Jay took it up to a hundred feet. The navigation on the panel directed them to pass over the burning cities ahead. And it was eerily clear as the ship neared—war really had begun. Straight ahead: El Centro, California, and Mexicali, Mexico, beyond that; most likely every city of the world shared a similar fate. In less than a minute the orange-red inferno under the smoke could hide no longer. On his own accord Jay decided to change the route, turning back into the rising sun. He maintained the low altitude, following crevasses and gorges when possible, and within a few minutes they were grazing beige-white bare desert. And quickly they neared the first drop.

  Rosita’s death was a traumatic, discouraging blow for everyone, an ominous bad start. It was supposed to be a quick in and out. Ana had her chair spun around and she, like everyone, even the bots, shared the sorrow. But, she had a notion about what Herald had done and it was an excellent contrivance, if it could work like he had explained to her not so long ago, lying in their bed, in their cabin. He’d mentioned to her many of the things he and Rafael were working on, wonderful, unbelievable things, but far too many to keep track of.

  “We did it. She will live,” Herald said, pulling a fist of achievement at the control panel, confirming what Ana was thinking. He saw the glint in her eye.

  “But, she’s gone!” Valerie sobbed. “What do you mean she’ll live? My mama is dead!” Her knees weakened as though she was about to pass out. Jerry offered comfort but she sharply pushed him off. The mission was a failure as far as she was concerned and she didn't want to have anything else to do with it. She fell limp into her father’s arms, to a degree passing out, and he held her tight. She’d always been close to her mama; it was a terrible blow for both of them.

  Removing a pill from her pouch, Ana came from the front; she’d feared this possibility and had prepared for it, and with what they were likely to head into next—Valerie needed it. Something to relax—and sleep. Valerie accepted the pill and left her father’s arms. She curled into her seat and faced the wall.

  Hal cleaned blood from Rosita’s face then covered her body with a blanket he’d gotten from one of the bins. He tucked it beneath her and gently wrapped her tight. Hal was the first bot to be activated, after Rafael, and he’d learned quite a bit about humans: the good and bad, compassion and mental anguish, and how to be sensitive to various emotional states. He treated Rosita with respect as he carefully adjusted her body. After he had her neatly wrapped, he secured her to the lending bed and closed the casing, then dry-erased the spatter from his own face.

  “Herald, we’re nearing Yuma,” Jay alerted from the front, cutting him off just as he attempted to explain what he’d been able to do.

  “—I’ll explain everything in detail later,” Herald assured.
“The launch went up early, it was something none of us expected. Things could get rough from here on out but we must remain strong. Valerie, if all goes well, there’s a good chance you will see your mother again. Now, we have to get this crate out. It—can give us this chance.” He looked Felix in the eye. “And a good chance of survival for your family in LA.” He started to say it could save the world but remembered, he wasn’t trying to save the world, he couldn’t, no one could. The two of them glanced over at Valerie. Distraught, she turned away and curled herself into an even tighter ball. Hopefully, with Ana’s great thinking, the pill would allow her some much needed rest. Herald felt bad, at fault for what happened. Against his better judgment, he let her family have one too many goodbyes, and it came at a great cost.

  “We’re passing Yuma now, just north of it,” Jay said, “altering course, southeast to drop destination. Mountains approaching. We have about, two minutes.”

  “We’re gonna need more time, Jay. Slow us down.”

  “Affirmative.” Jay slowed the ship and recalculated. “Can give you an extra minute, for any more we’ll have to hover or circle around.”

  “That should do it, Jay,” Herald said. “Everyone except for Jerry and Hal, strap in.” He turned to Felix who hadn’t budged an inch. He was still standing next to Rosita with his palm on the black glass of the lender casing. “Felix, I am very sorry about Rosita. There’s no time to explain now, but she is with us. Now please, strap in.”

  Felix reluctantly left Rosita’s side and took a seat next to his daughter. He moved his head awkwardly, a minuscule glimmer of hope glinted in his deep brown eyes, and he wondered, que esta tratando de decir.

  “Hal, we have to secure Vlad. Get a ratchet strap and we’ll anchor him to the floor. Jerry, get ready to open the bay door. We have to slide out this first crate, and soon. Here, clip in.” Herald pulled a retractable safety cable from the ceiling and handed it to Jerry. Jerry wrapped the strap around his waist and secured himself, he and Hal did the same. Herald then reached into a side bin and pulled out a couple of heavy-duty yellow ratchet straps. The three worked to roll the round-bellied builder toward the right, over some floor eyelets and they quickly secured him. Jerry’s brawn came in handy, and Jerry noticed that likewise, Hal—much smaller than he—was quite an extraordinary powerhouse. The look on Jon’s face said the same thing.

  “Oh my, would you look at that,” Jodi said, beholding the view from her window. Black plumes exterminated the blue day above Yuma, Arizona. They coalesced high in the sky before being blown west as if a rogue high-altitude wind was vacuuming the smoke into a thin smothering blanket. Explosions could be seen every few seconds, like firecrackers from their viewpoint, popping almost rhythmically.

  Ana had seen it through the front view port and shared sentiments quietly with Jay, his eyes met hers and his expression, felt not visualized, was funereal. They shared a mutual realization—bot or human, black or white—the unbiased acknowledgment of unfathomable worldwide tragedy, occurring right now. She didn’t want to dishearten anyone further, especially after what they had just been through, and really, hoped the others wouldn’t have noticed. Herald had told her for years exactly what was going to happen, in terrible vivid detail as it had poured from his perspicacious imagination, and she already knew what it would look like—but even then, actually seeing it for real… She also knew, this was just the beginning.

  “Ninety seconds, Herald,” Jay yelled back.

  “Jerry, open the bay door now,” Herald said, “we have to push it out.” Jerry slapped the button and the ramp swung downward. Turbulent air invaded the bay, arriving with a repugnant odor: burnt rubber bands, greasy dreadlocks as hot dogs on the grill, stink bugs crawling around in an old lady’s armpits. Repulsive. But they had to push on. Propping themselves to shove the four-foot wooden cube, Hal, Jerry, and Herald pushed on the sides; in the slightest it didn’t budge. “Push!”

  “I am pushing,” Jerry said, heaving with all he could muster. “What in the world is in this thing anyway?”

  The builder had loaded them, with ease thanks to his extreme strength. He had tightly packed the two crates in line of the bay door; there was no getting between them to leverage the last one away. Jerry got on top of the foremost crate and engaged his legs. Hal and Herald took a side. Another try. With fingers in between, they tried to force it back, but still, nothing. They just couldn’t get any leverage.

  “Fuck,” Herald said. “Fuck!” He put his hands on his hips and looked around. Ana’s eyes met his from the front. What else could go wrong?

  Vlad’s job. But he’d set down because of the drop in feed! The other lender, Red, was strapped into a seat next to Jon, hunched over, as white as a ghost, shaking in a cold sweat, unresponsive as if playing a nightmarish broken record in a ten-second loop. The unexpected logout had messed with his mind, fist-fucked it, possibly made worse by the effects of the passing time wave. Ana was the second person ever to test the system, after Herald himself, and she knew what an unexpected logout would do: messed up for days; she also knew why the feed had taken a sudden plummet. Any unexpected logout would temporarily crash the feed…wait. This time she had the idea.

  “45 seconds,” yelled Jay.

  “Herald, check the feed,” Ana exclaimed. “It might have recovered just enough to boot Vlad.” Herald sparked to her idea. The feed could have come back just enough in the time since Red had fallen out. And Manny was the top lender, after Herald himself, still logged in, building the feed.

  “Great idea, Ana!” he yelled. Herald hurdled over the crate, passing Jerry. He rushed to the control panel beside Rosita’s body. Ana was right. The feed was back, at least enough to reboot the builder, but was there enough time? Slowing down to hover was an option but would throw off the schedule even more than it already was, and circling around was out of the question. They had to be in El Paso because friends were waiting, and they were already late—one lost hour to be exact. And by the looks of Yuma, El Paso couldn’t be any better off, most likely it’d be ravaged far worse by the time they got there. Even for a group holding out atop the mountain, waiting for rescue, surrounded by that kind of destruction had to be dreadfully unnerving. Herald imagined screaming citizens climbing the desert mountains with an army of bots pulling at their legs, trying to drag anyone who dared escape back into the city of fire below. He imagined his friend Q and his team peering down from the top of North Mt. Franklin, helpless to assist the dying, just awaiting their own deaths—hoping rescue would come in time. He shook it off to regain focus.

  Quain Renmore, Q for short, had an off-the-chart IQ. The name, which he picked because his Korean name was unpronounceable in English, further demonstrated his wacky style. He was a human calculator who’d also been aware of the impending doom, and he disguised his remarkable intelligence with a quirky style. For years he’d worked closely with military research and development teams, and went on to head the communications department for the Venus and Mars missions. He was the first to develop a reliable quantum-communication system which had begun its testing only recently for Mars-Earth and was to be used exclusively aboard Warp-1. The new technology made communication instant and 100% secure. Regardless of distance, even from the other side of the universe, the transmission was in real time. He’d known Herald for more than five years, throughout his last year at Meddlinn. And Herald’s extreme creativity, combined with Q’s remarkable intelligence, no doubt made for a powerful union. Plus, Herald and Rafael were counting on that tech! The day they’d planned for so long had finally come, and they would finally meet in person—if the schedule went as planned.

  They had to make this drop!

  Rafael had contributed much as to speculate the method of attacks. He described several phases. Within the chaos of the first phase they should still be able to fly relatively undetected—save for the influence of the ship on the environment, which couldn’t be helped. Phase two, stragglers would be hunted, machines would take to the
air and space, and even with the ship’s blocker, any hint of a flyer would be targeted, making it a priority take-down. An indirect clue could be just as bad as a spot-on lock. The schedule needed to be followed flawlessly to ensure their safety, everything had been planned to perfection—except the early launch; the wrench stabbed their magnificent engine like a sword. It made things hairy. And now, very-likely-unknowns, more wrenches, would have to be dealt with as they arose.

  “30 seconds!”

  Ana was spot on. The feed had risen and Herald began the boot procedure. I love you, Ana!

  A blast rocked the ship, tilting it to a forty-five and everything got bright. Ana thought quickly, faster than Jay, reaching for the window controls: MAX TINT!

  Herald fell hard onto the control panel. He cracked the screen, slicing his forehead wide open. Regaining his balance, he ducked slightly to gaze through Jodi’s window. A huge fireball—red and black through the extreme welding-visor tint—rose into the sky, mushrooming from the northern outskirts of Yuma. The sheer sight elicited a low throat-clearing, wet-fart grunt: grumble grumble—Fear the Troll. No! Herald shook his head violently, slingshotting droplets of blood. And he punched his thoughts back into place.

  His first half-coherent thought—how? How in the world is he still sleeping? It was unbelievable. Herald wiped the blood from his forehead and eyes. The hit had undoubtedly jolted Manny inside the lender case. He’d briefed Manny on the possibilities, how it might translate into his dream, and damn if he wasn’t doing his magic to stay asleep. When we get back—if—no, we will—Manny is getting a case of beer! Blood channeled its way down his brow, covering his nose, slipping into his teeth; he ignored the flow. Jerry can help us drink it. Make that a truckload of beer!