The Unlicensed Consciousness

by Travis Borne

  In the BROCC, they watched. The HAT projected its ultra-high-res view and made clear the entire demolished town, the fractured wall, and the ship at its center. And forming in the air above, was something else. A pitch-black dot grew larger. It assumed the shape of an upside-down funnel and its warping walls were lined with the fabric of a nebulous, star-speckled universe. It grew until it was half the size of Rescue #486, then, something squeezed out: a glob of liquid metal. It flattened as if resting on the atmosphere to which it had arrived, and solidified into a rounded saucer shape.

  The craft, if it was one, gleamed seamlessly and descended quickly. Defying the laws of physics, its motions were nearly instantaneous. It halted atop the Goliath that was more than twice its size.

  At least a third of the townspeople had made it into #486 when suddenly the ramp activated. But not before the orange-jump-suit individuals disappeared. The runner and others who had come outside to wave, affirming a well-intentioned rescue, also vanished—holograms! People dove from the fast-closing ramp as though it had become a chomping maw, unbiased to devour them. And the bridge atop the ship disappeared, as well the decals, numbers, and stripes, even the silver panels alluding to the resourcefulness of humankind. All of it was a hologram. But the hull retained its overall size, although appeared sleeker with its new semblance: dark seaweed-green, glossy and seamless. Then, the engines powered up. With a roar it began to rise, and emitted a defiant screech, causing eardrums to bleed. Then it pushed up. But the saucer above held its position, top center.

  The attempted departure failed. As much as former #486 tried it could not evade nor dent nor move the chrome entity. Max thrust: its engines roared in vain, transmuting burnt trees to black ash piles, and likewise futile were all attempts to rise. So, it descended, defeated—and the glob of a saucer descended with it.

  Outer perimeter ship #11 arrived. The automation ceased forcefield generation as it crossed over, then reapplied. The ship was dark grey and battle-worn, as if had traveled through Hell and back, and immense but only a quarter the size of former #486. It was shaped like a talon, and tilted back as if ready to deliver a punishing sting. Small razor-like wings on its apex swept toward the rear, getting larger and thicker until merging with the immense propulsion of its hinged base.

  Three crafts, all aware of each other…

  The exotic assistance crept in slowly, cautiously, taking a position one hundred feet above the ensuing duel, and snap! The talon swept downward. Its apex unleashed the brightest laser pulses yet, a demonstration: NO WAY OUT. The starburst of red went full 360 several times, and fast enough to create a vectored ceiling, discharging infinitely in every direction. It effectively capped the wall. Then the worthy demonstration stopped, the talon leaned back again and held fast. And the broadcast spike delivered to it a purple charge of energy. The battered hull of #11 became electrified, and the tip of its talon was as if Venus had been pulled 25% closer, a morning star glimmering with glory. And gloriously, it hovered silently, ready to assist if needed.

  “That explains a lot,” Alex said.

  “Sure does,” his partner Trixie replied. “Proof-of-life support, the reason we’ve been safe all these years.” And the lenders, most never having had seen one of the outer perimeter ships, stood in awe of #11’s power.

  Former #486 held a position mere feet from the ground, as if thinking—then again came the intense screech. Its lasers fired onto the saucer, yet none made even a spark against the mirror-like curiosity. Hundreds fired at once, focused on a single point, still nothing. Then the needle began to rise—another efficacious, all-powerful attack. The storm! It had vacuumed millions of drones, spitting them away like gorging blackholes to matter it can’t stuff, and now—but no. Again, ineffective. The saucer came down. Extension crushed. And it kept coming down, and it pushed, pressing former #486 into the earth. Former #486’s engines reened with all it had. Futile. And the saucer bore down even harder. It was as though it possessed the gravity of a neutron star to focus as needed. And the body of former #486 began to buckle as it went into the mud. Loud cracks spewed streams of high-pressure smoke. Again, the screech, shouting less defiance, more wail, louder and high-pitched, diamond cat-claws destroying a chalkboard. And again, the townspeople plugged their ears.

  “Take that—” Jim said, tightening a fist. “—muddy fucking pig.” The fresh metaphor fell out of his newly magnified imagination. But the feeling in the broadcast room was mutual, with plenty of schadenfreude, and former #486 had just been branded.

  The ship waddled helplessly under the pressure, sloshing large mounds of muddy earth, trying to free itself from the press. In a desperate move to escape, Mud Pig launched forward like a sled, carving earth like a skier does water—directly toward the lender facility! The awestruck audience that was the remainder of the town, dove into the safe room. The ship hit hard on the bulging south edge, which deflected the behemoth toward the end of 3rd Street. After taking out several houses it hit the wall beside the facility, cracking it from top to bottom. The ship reened and reeeened, pushing against the wall, but the wall didn’t budge.

  The saucer above was lightning and zipped to Mud Pig’s bow, then pressed on the nose, crushing it flat. It pushed the pig back through the trench it had just dug.

  Support ship #11 created its red laser ceiling once more, as if taunting, fool me once, not twice, you’ve had it now, knowing very well the enemy was getting its just desserts.

  With another deafening and lingering wail, rotation began. Earth oscillated in waves, creating huge mud dunes. Under the pressing force Mud Pig rotated like a top, spinning in the slippery soil. No escape. And then it finally stopped, facing northwest directly toward the hospital and gym across the park.

  The stalemate lasted for at least five minutes before the engines reignited. Blue high-pressure fire torched the facility and once more and people dove for cover. After revving the engines at maximum for a good twenty seconds, it let loose. Mud Pig rocketed with all it had, pushing dirt, digging the deepest trench yet—but the saucer remained, locked above it like a halo. The chrome glob pressed, harder, not allowing Mud Pig lift.

  It hit, hard. The wall exploded where the mouth of the spring was capped and water flooded into the new trench. The saucer, as if finally allowing it passage, relented but followed. Mud Pig had traded the hit for freedom. It painted a black trail of smoke like a winding road into the northern sky, eventually banking due east until it was gone. The saucer escorted, and all was silent, save for sizzling fires and a flood of water pouring into the newly carved canals branching from mud-bog hell.

  “Look!” someone said. An arc of light retraced the path.

  Almost instantly it floated above smoking earth before the facility; as if light speed was a joke, the ship defied the rules of the known universe.

  “I think, it’s okay,” Rob Price said. Panic faded. Others peeked out, then crept toward the curiosity. For the third time people emptied the now only half-full, last-place-they-ever-wanted-to-be-again. Mud Pig had gotten away with almost half of the town.

  “We can head outside now,” Jim said. He didn’t know how he knew, he just did. And Jim felt pain, terrible pain, from a distance. He turned around. On screen his friend looked crushed. Rico had made the decision that cost many lives. He knew exactly what Rico needed and said slowly, “Rico, come over here, please.”

  “I—Jim, I sent—” Rico broke down.

  Jim remembered his old, hateful self, when he just wanted to end it, and he saw just that in Rico's eyes. Sternly he said, “Rico. I want you over here, right now. Trust me and do it. Things are going to be okay.”

  Rico got up slowly. He disappeared from the control room, leaving the door open and unsecured. Shoulders sagging, he arrived to the broadcast room, and for a moment broke free from his prison of regret while beholding the broadcast tower. It glowed harmoniously and the steady rhythmic hum was an ear massage. Jim went to him, put an arm around his shoulder, and led him past t
he beds to the center—and the purple electricity traveled into his head.

  His eyes went back and a relaxed smile formed. Coming out of it ten seconds later, as if he’d taken a dose of horse tranquilizers, Rico floated his head to face Jim, and they hugged.

  “It was not your fault, Rico,” Jim said, holding Rico’s shoulders tight. “We all have to make decisions. That’s the hardest thing about being a leader. Most times, we live with our choice for the rest of our lives, and sometimes, we get a chance to make it right. Now, let’s go outside.”

  Outside, the gleaming broadcast needle atop the wall was extended taller than had ever been seen. It illuminated with the same electrostatic purple glow and pleasantly zapped those outside who were walking toward the true savior. Another brighter purple beam connected with the top of the craft as if a mutual communication had been established. Then support ship #11 departed, blazing back to the outer perimeter.

  Eyes lit with wonder. Bedazzled citizens encircled the craft; looking up they saw their reflections distorted like those in a funhouse mirror. It was a sight to behold, a stunning craft—again, if it was one. It gleamed flawlessly under the vivid blue sky. And slowly, contentedly, Jim walked with Rico behind the last of the widely spread-out townspeople. Bertha had his right with a face of rock-hard tears. Ted walked on their left. The docs and the entire lending team walked behind them. People made way. Then everyone stopped, and waited.

  New feelings flooded minds, intense feelings that hadn’t been felt since sliding from the womb. Wet virgin skin to fresh air, and Rico cried with joy. The roller coaster of emotion plunged from a million feet, a smorgasbord of intensities tingled fingers and toes and minds, and youthful vivacity popped; strong feelings of hope and wonder owned the mountain of the mind, a singularity of life, existence itself, and just being, won over the nothingness, and not a one, possessed not a tear.

  Jim pondered over what he might expect. He expected, hoped, that he’d see Herald and Ana. For now, he knew them like family. As if he was Amy, yet still, Jim, with all of his memories, both. And somehow, as if channeled through the very DNA, or the system itself, he knew Herald intimately, and his memories—to a point. He knew of Meddlinn Technologies Corporation and his trusted friends. He even knew of Herald’s most intimate secrets: Troll, Vine, Snake, the oh-so terrible Panic, even the Demon. And he knew he was standing, breathing, existing, only because of this one man. He knew fully what they’d accomplished, the team. They’d saved so many—working together. Intimately he knew Amy up until the cave rescue, but beyond that—blank. And he knew of his time with her here, objectively, as odd as it was, her memories and perspectives. He knew of her secrets too, the artwork she made and kept to herself, the true honest goodness in her heart. And he realized she was stronger than he’d ever imagined she was. He was heartbroken because she was gone. Overwhelmingly, the flood of it all forced his eyes to fill.

  And he knew how he himself fit into the picture, why he was even brought to Jewel City in the first place. And it hurt his heart to think of it. It was the one thing his mind pushed into the darkness, behind its own great wall; a wall of impenetrable denial. No, no, no! It cannot be! And he pushed it back, even further into the recesses of his mind. He let it get buried by all of the other stuff, mountains upon mountains of other stuff.

  The side of the ship melted before their eyes, and its flawless chrome metal assumed the shape of a ramp. The time had come.

  108. Final

  Before them, a stretched-out S. And the glistening metal S led up to a twenty-foot-wide platform. Atop, and beyond a sort of semi-transparent energy barrier, Jewel City residents beheld a bright day. A world, lush and green with trees and vegetation, even buildings and a bluish-purple sky. It was as if, the ship itself was a traveling portal! An eight-foot-tall creature elegantly stepped through the curtain of light and onto the platform. He was nude and satin smooth with delicate features, and thin like stretched putty. His skin was pastel blue, his friendly eyes were large and ran deep with warm golden-yellow, and he blinked serenely. Accompanying him arrived a shorter version of the same creature and it took his hand, then looked up to him, brandishing a smile with its teeny mouth. They waved with their free hands. And the townspeople, as if hypnotized, waved back. A gracious hello could be felt not heard. Like a picture worth a million words, the greeting from these creatures spoke worlds in one magical feeling. They continued: Welcome all, welcome and we are delighted to meet you.

  Beyond the platform and the wall of energy appeared the silhouette of a man and woman passing between rows of blooming flowers in a lush park. They headed toward the opening.

  Jim stood outside next to Rico, waiting restlessly. He knew it was Herald and Ana, and he could not wait to meet them. His body tingled in anticipation and his feet took him apart from the dazzled crowd. Solo, he went toward the ship and placed one foot on the chrome ramp.

  And they passed through the light. And sunlight lit their faces. It was Herald—and Amy.

  Amy!

  And she looked amazing, just as beautiful and vibrant as he knew her to be, except, she was older, perhaps by five, maybe ten years. Jim wobbled for a moment then hard blinked. His eyes flooded and a pass of dizziness assaulted his balance, then his muscles tightened. Emotional overload. He’d yet to master this new, powerful side of his mind and his heart pounded the inside of his chest as though he had two. Warm tingling throughout his body ignited an explosion of pure elation.

  He rushed up the floating path like an ecstatic child. From the platform in, his steps were slow as if stepping into a dream. Can this really be? Amy smiled brightly, just the same way she always had. And she waved, perkily. It was her! And he hugged her, and she him, and together they cried. His joy erupted! He’d become the sun, its flares whipping a cold dead planet back to life.

  Then he met Herald face to face, and shook his hand, hardly able to contain himself. Herald was older too; he looked experienced and wise. Jim felt him as a friend, a father. And then, they too hugged.

  Ana came shortly after, followed by another man. It was Jon! He wore a tight white glove on one hand, stretched almost to his elbow. It was the hand that had been severed by the machines during his fight to protect Amy at the cave. They had been able to revive him! And Jon’s beard of despair and hopelessness was shaved, and he looked vibrant and happy in life. Oddly, though, he did not look older—he mirrored the gifted memories exactly.

  Ana was stunning. Her birthmark was a mark of beauty and she smiled at Jim, and the greetings went round. He realized he’d met Ana in the fantasy-land map he’d entered with Felix and Rico, through the secret portal beyond Old Town. But now he knew so much about her and what they’d been through. Sadly, Jim thought, Jerry was nowhere to be seen. And he forced many ideas and speculations behind the great wall he’d mentally created; he locked it and threw away the key.

  Herald invited the rest of the town aboard. Mystified, they passed through the curtain of light beyond the platform, shuffled into the colorful land that painted the interior of the saucer, then met—the others.

  There were myriad people, if they could be called people, of all types, all colors, yet not human. A mingling melting-pot had gone for a drive about the universe within a world. And there was more diversity than Earth after border abolishment and DNA-modifying bedlam. Short olive-colored people, again thin, seemingly without a muscle on their frame, came to greet the Jewel City citizens first. The tall pastel-blue beings, those who had introduced themselves by speaking without words, arrived behind them. Others flew high about the clear sky above, and quickly they too descended to participate in the mass gathering. Some were nearly translucent and their bodies changed shape at will; just touching them was a powerful form of communication.

  Rico, Ted, lenders, the entire team, were overjoyed—which overshadowed their perplexity—to see Amy. They cried happy tears. And their newly mended minds, as it should be, contained a wonder larger than the universe itself. Jessie, escorted by
Tim, stepped up and apologized then broke down and couldn’t get another word out. After the long line of hugs and greetings Herald led everyone deeper inside to a park and they sat in cool blue-green grass. Then he began to explain.

  “We invite all of you to travel with us. Earth, sadly, is finished and soon the machines will overrun the planet and wipe it clean. This is their purpose, to destroy any who abuse technology to the point it can harm the universe itself. Jim, I believe—although I do not know to what extent your received memories have taken hold—you know this already. Technology is a fragile thing, and in the wrong hands, frivolous and ignorant, rampant and careless, it will be dissolved. Only a small few are entrusted with it, those you see here—and, a few more.” He smiled to Ana, who also returned one.

  “But, Amy, I saw you die. How?” Jim asked.

  “Listen, Jim,” she said, with added years of practiced patience.

  Herald continued, “As many of you may know your very dreams were stolen from you by the machines, this force meant to do us in, because we were once so rash. They hated, but it was their purpose, to stop us. They manipulated the cleansing. You were all provided fixes, yes, superficial many, cures for diseases, but also your imagination was stolen. Your ability—and this, like many other things manifested later—to procreate. Much had a delayed and gradual impact. All who tried to deliver a child perished during childbirth, and soon after, the ability to procreate eventually vanished as well. Amy, Ana, and I, and very few others were hidden from this cleansing, so they called it. And I am sorry, we discovered this too late to warn anyone, but in time to hide ourselves from its damaging effects. Later, in conjunction with our system, likewise the facility you have here in your town, we were able to devise a way to repair this damage, through dreams—with Amy’s help. We lost her during the war, hence the long wait, but eventually were able to reunite. Her DNA had been devised specifically to collaborate with the systems in order to repair the damage that had been done. And by logging in with her, the repair process took place.”