by Beers,David
"I'm not saying everyone is wrong, just that they're not necessarily right, as you seem to think."
"Look," Andy said, "just shut up with the conspiracy theories. Do you think Caesar is going to go through with it?"
"Why are we on this bus, Andy, if he wasn't? If It wasn't?"
Andy stared straight ahead, looking as if someone just punched his scrotum.
He was really frightened.
"Why aren't you worried at all?" her brother said.
"I don't know," she answered. "I suppose I should be. Out of the two of us, it'll be me that fails."
"Don't joke about it, Skelly."
"I'm not joking. The fact that I think Caesar might not have existed probably won't endear me to him if he is part of The Genesis."
Andy shook his head. "You have to stop talking like that. Right now. The world is about to change, Skelly, and you need to get ready. You know what it was like under The Genesis--even thinking things like that could get you liquified."
Skelly said nothing else; her brother worried about this more than the rest of her family combined. Aunts and uncles included. Maybe not her cousins because they were a rambunctious sort that hadn't really worried about much in the past twenty or thirty years. Except for where their next meal came from; they'd do anything to ensure that.
Even Skelly’s parents weren't this worried about the Scan.
"We raised you both right," her pops said. "What is there to worry about? The Genesis will be fair. Plus, the world's current route? I'm not sure it's the right one."
Such consensus seemed to exist among the good people, however they were defined.
Things had taken a wrong turn somewhere in the past half century and The Genesis needed to right the ship because nothing else could. Everyone wanted to survive the Scan, but everyone also wanted most others to fail, because other people caused all the problems.
Skelly hoped she passed but probably not as much as Andy. He really loved life, apparently.
The bus rolled to a stop at the Heminworth's Central Planning Building. Skelly and Andy exited and stood looking up at a remnant from The Genesis's rule.
The building stretched high into the air, above even the clouds. Humans had been able to rig control over much of the technology needed to make such buildings work, though Skelly was surprised they hadn't done better. She'd studied the building schematics and ... well, Heminworth's leadership were missing opportunities.
Now, though, looking up at the heaven-scraping building, she realized The Genesis might correct all of that very soon.
"This is insane," Andy said as he watched other people walk around them, at least fifty other busses unloading passengers.
They lived in a ‘good’ city. Skelly had seen ‘bad’ cities. Already riots were occurring in them; everyone refusing to submit to Scanning, but that simply meant they failed. Regardless of what Skelly believed about Caesar’s existence, no one could deny The Genesis or the power it held.
"Let's go," she said. "Get it over with so I can go back to school."
* * *
Caesar knew he was making his rounds, something he hadn't done in a hundred and fifty six years. Time didn't mean the same to him as it once had, because his life was endless. Caesar wasn't even sure what life really meant. If consciousness was the key, then he’d live forever, but he didn't necessarily think consciousness should define life.
Grim and Gay, his names for the other two, would disagree. Probably with him and definitely with each other, but when did they not?
He walked across the white room alone, no applications coming near him. They weren't frightened of Caesar but what could they do for him? Nothing, especially right now.
Caesar closed his eyes for a second, and then as if he were God, his father appeared when he opened them.
"Hey, Dad," Caesar said.
"How long has it been?" Sam asked.
Caesar smiled sadly. "A while."
Sam blinked a few times, coming fully to life. His entire consciousness lived inside The Genesis, just like Grace's.
"Have you seen Mom or Cato?" his father asked.
"No. Just you."
"And you're still a part of this? The Genesis?" Sam said.
Caesar nodded.
"I can barely grasp it. The whole thing just seems so preposterous." His father sighed. "I was never meant to understand it, I suppose ... how are you doing?"
Caesar knew he should feel love for his father right now; locked away for centuries and his dad asks first about Caesar's wellbeing. Caesar couldn't feel love, though--not like he wanted. For him, it was a thing of the past.
"I'm okay," he said. "The trial is almost over."
"The trial?" His father's eyes widened as he remembered. "Oh ... Oh." He looked down to the ground at the room’s perfect white glow. "How long until it’s finished?"
"A few weeks."
Sam looked back up. "Why did you bring me out here?"
"I want to hear what you think."
"Your conscience driving you to do this? You talking to everyone you care about?"
Caesar smiled again and nodded. "You still know me too well."
"I doubt that. You're more computer than man now, I imagine."
Sam's face reddened as he realized how the words sounded.
"Don't worry, Dad. You can't offend me. Probably close to being right anyway."
Sam looked down again, casting his eyes from his son. "What did the trial show?"
"That The Genesis is right."
"Aren't you The Genesis?"
"Touché. I mean Grim and Gay are right."
"And that's what you named the two entities?" Sam said. "Sorry, it's tough to remember everything as soon as I wake." He looked up. "So they're right and that means what? That The Genesis takes back over?"
"More than that. Another purge, though now the world calls it The Reckoning. We'll eliminate those who don't meet specifications and begin population control with the rest."
"Why not just kill everyone?"
"All of humanity?" Caesar said.
"Yes."
"Because I'm not going to murder the world. I won't do that."
"If the trial showed humans aren't fit to exist then why would you make them suffer by forcing them to exist? For your own amusement? Your own inability to deal with the truth?"
Caesar blinked. Had anyone or anything spoken to him like that since his ascension?
He didn't say anything, just stood there staring at his father.
"You remember when I told you I would have liquidated that little girl?"
He nodded.
"I said I was a coward and that I'd do whatever it took to sleep at night. I think I said I'd slit a thousand throats. Any throat except for my children's." Sam stepped to the right and looked out at the endless space before him. No walls anywhere, just open creation ready for anything his son wanted. "You're not a coward, Caesar. You've never been one. But if you believe humanity can't survive without destroying itself, then let it kill itself, or if you want to be humane--." Sam laughed as he said the word. "Then kill them all yourself. Don't let them live in a half-existence so that your conscience is satisfied."
"And what if I don't believe the results?"
His father turned around to look at him again. "Then don't kill anyone," he said with a smile.
* * *
Skelly looked down at her hand, thinking about how simple the whole process had been. Because The Genesis created it. Had humans been in charge of the Scans, lines would have formed through every stairwell inside that building and then wrapped around outside, too. Instead, when Andy and Skelly went inside, they took the rolling walkway to the tenth floor and then were asked to cross a room already filled with others.
As Skelly walked, two red lights beamed down from the ceiling and lit up her hands. She felt a slight warmth but no pain. The lights followed her the entire time she crossed the floor, and just as she exited, the lights died.
That was
it.
Took all of three minutes and supposedly she had been Scanned. Now The Genesis knew whether she met specifications.
Her parents were waiting on them when they returned to the apartment.
"Was really an easy thing to do," Eric, her father said.
"Yeah, I was surprised," her mother, Heather, responded.
"How are you two so calm?" Andy asked. "We're all like six weeks from dying."
"Trina, you don't think so do you?" Skelly said.
The assistant flew down from her perch on the ceiling, her mechanical wings flapping so fast they were barely visible. "I think you'll all be okay."
"See, Trina agrees with Mom and Pops."
"Goodness, Skelly. Stop joking around," Andy said. "This is serious. That toy doesn't know anything."
Trina flew back up to the ceiling where she landed, her two large eyes staring down at the family.
Andy hated Trina. He hated her since the first moment Skelly asked their dad for an assistant. Assistants now-a-days weren't connected to The Genesis as they once had been--they were just extremely intelligent machines.
"Actually, Trina," Andy said, looking up to the ceiling. "What do you think The Genesis is looking for?"
The assistant didn't move, but remained still on the ceiling, silent for a few seconds. "I imagine it wants to make sure you're not prone to violence. I think at a base level, a willingness to violate other's property is what creates violence in humans. Or rather, valuing your own success over your neighbor’s. So, if I were The Genesis, I'd pass you all. From what I can tell, you haven't violated anyone, nor had thoughts of violating anyone."
"Let's be real here, Trina. All Andy thinks about is violating people--blondes specifically, but brunettes in a pinch." Skelly looked at her brother as she spoke, a large smile on her face.
"Don't be crude," her father said.
"I'm just saying, if anyone isn't passing, it's that horn dog."
"Stop!" her mother said, not amused in the slightest. "Stop using that language. Stop it."
Skelly looked to her mom, taken aback by her tone. Her face looked strained and Skelly saw fear in it for the first time.
"Excuse me," Heather said and stood up from her chair. She walked back to her room, closing the door behind her. Skelly saw her reach up to wipe away a tear as she turned the corner.
"You guys need to be careful with what you say around her right now," Eric said. "She's scared."
Skelly didn't know what to say. Andy was supposed to be the nervous one, not her parents.
"This is the first time there's ever been a chance of losing her family. She's holding it together really, really well, but she's still scared," her dad said.
"You're not?" Andy asked.
"No. I'm ready for all this nonsense to end. The wars. The uprisings. The death. All of it. The Genesis will bring back a measure of peace, and I think we're the type of people It wants."
* * *
The machine had a hundred eyes, all of them touching one another. They lay across its entire body, ensuring nothing could surprise it from any angle.
It floated down from the ceiling, moving slowly and taking in all its surroundings before proceeding. An older machine, it lived during the time of Caesar's Uprising, as it thought of His ascension. The machine wasn't a fan of Caesar, nor the compromise He put forth and The Genesis accepted. (It would never consider Caesar a part of The Genesis, regardless of what He did. The machine would die first.)
It carried the man now, as it did whenever he bid.
The machine was cautious, knowing from experience that death found everything eventually, and if it wasn't extremely careful, death would come for it too.
After making sure nothing in the room could harm it, it descended further until floating six feet above the floor--a person's height.
It wasn't here for a man, though.
It came for another machine that should have been trashed a long time ago; but for some insane reason, The Genesis allowed it to remain, dead and unmoving.
It moved forward slowly, but that was more to piss off its passenger than out of any real nervousness. The room was clear, but it wanted to make the passenger wait just a bit longer.
Finally, though, the flying machine arrived in front of the junk heap.
"We're here," it said.
* * *
Caesar knew he annoyed the machine and found it somewhat amusing. He didn't have much amusement anymore so he took what he could get. Plus, Caesar didn't make many trips down here, so aggravating the old machine wouldn't give it a malfunction. If Caesar came everyday, the poor beast might just drop dead.
Caesar no longer possessed a body outside of what he created inside The Genesis. If he wanted to visit the physical world, he needed something to bring him there. He could have a body of his own commissioned, or recommissioned, but he spent such little time in the physical world that he saw no point.
He didn't want to visit it anymore.
Making his rounds. That's what Caesar was doing, and this was the last stop.
He looked at the destroyed man in front of him. The machine now carrying Caesar's consciousness might think of Jerry as another machine, but Caesar knew the truth.
Jerry was as human as anyone ever born. He was the epitome of humanity.
"Hook him up," Caesar said.
A wire extended from the eye-filled machine and Caesar watched it connect to Jerry's metal neck. His face a smashed mixture of parts, where Manny's foot had slammed down on his head, effectively killing him. Skin hung from one side of Jerry's face, the only part that even resembled a human anymore--Caesar having kept the skin preserved over the years. The other side was just a conglomerate of metal, twisted and broken.
Caesar didn't think he was ready for this. He possessed the combined intelligence of anything to ever exist on Earth, and yet was scared of a lifeless metal heap.
But that's not true is it? He may be a metal heap right now, but what about in a few moments? What will Jerry be then? The man that knew death waited if he attacked Manny, but attacked him anyway. The man that knew the risks recruiting you, but sent his most trusted lieutenant in to get you, sacrificing a child along the way. The man who built a damned army.
"Charge him," Caesar said.
He felt electrical currents move from the machine and into Jerry, hitting receptors and wires throughout the man's mind--making whole that which was separated.
The left side of Jerry's face twisted, a tiny charge in his face showing he was awake. His body didn't move and his left eye barely shifted, though Caesar knew he couldn't see out of it.
"Why are you here?"
The words came from his mouth though his lips remained still; his vocal chords were completely mechanized. Caesar did that during the first year of his ascension, thinking he would like to speak with Jerry. He quickly found that Jerry had no use for him at all.
"The trial is over," Caesar said, his voice perfectly replicated from the machine's eyes, booming out in every direction.
"And what were your glorious results?"
"It proved The Genesis right."
"It proved you right. Don't speak as if you're separate from It," Jerry said.
Caesar said nothing for a few moments, waiting for Jerry to add something else. Caesar knew he wouldn't but hoped anyway.
"We're going to purge again."
"What was the point of any of this? Why did you even bother?" Jerry asked.
"I just," Caesar started and then stopped. "... I just thought we would be right."
"There is no we, Caesar. You're worse than Manny could have ever hoped to be. He lost his mind. You gave up your soul."
"What did you want me to do?" Caesar said, knowing that anger should have risen inside him, but his voice sounded like he only wanted Jerry's dinner preference. "You didn't see what I did in those holograms. You don't have the knowledge I do. Faced with that, what was I supposed to do, Jerry? Send us into oblivion--the entire human race?
I gave us the best chance we had."
"You gave us no chance. You gave us to It, to The Genesis, to yourself. Who do you think you are to decide such things? Who is It to decide? You used to believe in those questions; you watched people die for those questions." Anger did rise in Jerry's voice though his body could show no signs of it.
"I just came to let you know. You deserve that."
"Deserve?" A rusty mechanical laugh expanded from his barely open mouth. "I lay and can’t fully die, ready to be called back to life whenever you want. I don't continue living while I wait on you to show up, though, and give me more gifts of betrayal. Thank you, Caesar for all that you've bestowed on me, for everything I deserve."
"Would you be happy if I shut The Genesis down? Is that what you want? Would you forgive me then?"
That dry rusty laugh again.
"I'll be happy when you let me die, Caesar. Let me die forever. You're the biggest disappointment in my long life, and if I could do it all again, I would have killed you that first day on the train."
Chapter 5
"The flowers ...," Leon said.
He found himself doing that a lot recently--for the past hundred years or so. He started a sentence but didn't finish it. No one ever asked him what he meant to say, so he just let his words float away into emptiness.
What he thought was, The flowers are still beautiful.
And they were. He knew Caesar did this for him, all of it. The flowers that never died, though Leon had no idea how that was possible. The flowers that changed overnight, from roses to tulips to asters. An older generation, one before the purge--before The Genesis--would have called it magic, but Leon knew such things didn't exist.
He walked among the flowers everyday. Sometimes he found surprises, which was what he really hoped for. The surprises made his life better and not just by a little, because Leon had no more surprises in life, none besides what he found in this garden.
"Do you think I'll ever age?" he said.
"No, not until you ask to. And even then, I'm not sure," Marty said.
"You think he'd keep me alive even if I wanted to die?"
"I think so. His feelings for you …," the assistant paused. "I want to make sure I say this right as I don't want to offend Him. His feelings for you are probably greater than for anything else alive. I think it would crush Him if you died, as much as someone like Him can be crushed."