by Michael Ryan
“Engineer!” screamed a voice from beyond the laboratory door.
The Scientist felt fear meander through his metallic frame. The Engineer stopped dead. A panic strangled the air and suffocated those under its weight.
“Engineer!”
The Scientist recognized that deadly voice. He recognized that malevolent wretch.
“The Destroyer!” screeched the Engineer.
The Scientist looked around the room. He wasn’t supposed to be there. No Machine was supposed to be there. He had to get out of the lab.
“My child,” mumbled the Engineer as he drifted aimlessly. “Where is the remote for my child?”
“Open the door, Engineer. I’m here to collect the property of the Board.”
“Hide me,” begged the Scientist. “Hide me or we are both finished.”
“My child,” mumbled the Engineer as he continued searching for the remote.
“Open the door, Engineer!” screamed the Destroyer.
The Scientist looked around the room for a hiding place. It was exposed, for the most part, except for a stack of unused steel which was piled several feet high.
“I’ll hide. I’ll hide over there,” said the Scientist. “Whatever happens, Engineer, don’t reveal me. If you reveal me, we’re both dead.”
“I have to finish my work,” mumbled the Engineer. “I have to finish my work.”
The Scientist glided across the laboratory floor and moved several pieces of scrap. It was a tight fit, but the Scientist managed to conceal himself.
“Open the door, Engineer!”
“I have to finish my work,” mumbled the Engineer as he drifted aimlessly in search of the remote.
“Remember, Engineer, say nothing,” pleaded the Scientist.
“I have to finish my work.”
“I am coming for you, Engineer!” screamed the Destroyer. “I am coming for what is mine!”
Bang.
An explosion rocked the laboratory. The door was blown to smithereens like a balloon bursting open in a million directions. Debris littered the air like confetti.
“Argh!” screamed the Engineer as he fell backwards.
The Destroyer placed his robotic arm against the remains of the door and shifted the enormous weight with ease. Dust and smoke swirled around the giant frame of the Destroyer as he entered the room like a demon summoned from hell.
“I’m not finished!” screamed the Destroyer as he pointed his gun at the Engineer.
“I need more time.”
“You should have obeyed my orders,” said the Destroyer.
“More time, please,” begged the Engineer.
“Look what you made me do, you stupid dog. The door is finished.”
“I need more time!”
The Destroyer moved forward and the Engineer cowered against his creation.
“The Board has allocated you enough time.”
“But it isn’t functional. It doesn’t work yet.”
“The Machine is ready.”
“But… but…” rambled the Engineer.
“Cooperate with the Board, Engineer, unless you want your brains scattered about your lab.”
The Engineer fell silent as his speaker flexed under the stress imparted by his disintegrating mind.
“Stay there. The mechanical Homo sapiens must be submitted to the Records. Move and I’ll blow your mind into the next room.”
“Please,” begged the Engineer.
“Please!” mocked the Destroyer as a hideous cackle filled the lab.
“Please.”
But the Destroyer just laughed and advanced forward. The Engineer remained between his creation and the Destroyer. He would not abandon his child.
“He isn’t finished. I must be given more time.”
The Destroyer extended his robotic arm until his gun rested an inch away from the lens of the Engineer.
“I could blow your brains out with just a twitch of my arm,” whispered the Destroyer.
“Please,” begged the Engineer as he remained resolute, standing squarely between the Destroyer and his creation.
“The jugular,” whispered the Destroyer. “I will lick the blood of your jugular.”
“Please.”
“Your blood will spill like the rivers of old.”
“Please, Destroyer. Please.”
“Please!” mocked the Destroyer as his hideous cackle filled the air and vibrated against the metallic frame of the Engineer. “You’re lucky the Board holds a favorable opinion of you. Lucky for a dog like you. If it was up to me, your brains would have been scattered on this floor long ago.”
“Please.”
“I warn you once more, you dog. Move out of the way or I will cover the floor with your brains.”
“Please,” begged the Engineer.
“A brave fool, I’ll give you that,” laughed the Destroyer.
“If you give me more time, I’ll have him working. I promise that.”
“You’ll have him working?”
“Yes, Destroyer, I’ll get him working. I promise.”
The Destroyer’s speaker released a static hiss which drove fear into the stale air.
“And can you get him working?”
“Yes, I promise.”
“Well, ok then. If you can get him working,” said the Destroyer as he pointed his gun towards the floor.
“Thank you, Destroyer. Thank you. I promise you I will.”
“Engineer, you are a clever Machine. Tell me, can you get this working?”
Bang.
The Destroyer’s arm swung down, like a hammer yielded by a God, and crushed the Engineer’s robotic arm. The Engineer opened his lens wide as he flew sideways, several feet into the air, and landed amongst a pile of wires.
“You stupid dog,” laughed the Destroyer as he looked down upon the Engineer. “Now you’ll have time to get that working.”
The Engineer tried to lift himself from the ground but his robotic arm had been severed.
“Please,” begged the Engineer.
The Destroyer lifted his gun and pointed it at the lens of the Engineer.
“Shut up! You will be my next victim if you don’t shut up. I should scatter your mind across the floor.”
The Destroyer let his red screen glow brightly as his disdain was revealed.
“But you will live. The flea ridden dog will be granted mercy. The generosity of the Board will save you. There are more pressing issues. The world must continue turning. Fine work, you’ve done here, you miserable dog. Very fine work.”
“Please,” mumbled the Engineer.
“Here,” said the Destroyer as he pushed down the arms of the mechanical Homo sapiens. “We are claiming what is ours.”
“I need more time,” screeched the Engineer through a failing speaker.
“A heavy brute,” laughed the Destroyer as he lifted the mechanical Homo sapiens.
“Please.”
“Please!” mocked the Destroyer as he looked down, with the mechanical Homo sapiens in his arms, at the Engineer. “Your path is clear. Follow the law of the Records and you will profit. Become bold, and you shall die, like an abandoned, flea ridden dog.”
The Engineer was squirming on the floor as he tried to lift himself. The Destroyer laughed at the pitiful wretch.
“Remember my words, dog,” warned the Destroyer. “Remember my words or your work will end forever.”
Then the Destroyer turned and moved through the laboratory debris like a ghoul passing into another world. The Engineer wailed as his child, whose red eyes looked back into the laboratory, disappeared forever.
“My child!” screamed the Engineer.
The Scientist moved from behind his hiding place.
“My work is not finished,” screeched the Engineer.
“Shut the door immediately,” said the Scientist.
“Please… please…” mumbled the Engineer.
“Shut the door,” said the Scientist. “I have the remote.�
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“My work is not finished.”
The Scientist grabbed the Engineer’s metallic frame.
“Here, see?” said the Scientist as he held the remote in front of the Engineer’s lens. “Now shut up and listen to me.”
“You have it!” exclaimed the Engineer.
“Close the door.”
“Where did you find it?”
“We must destroy it,” said the Scientist. “Shut the door, what’s left of it.”
The Engineer emitted an electromagnetic signal and the remnants of the door began screeching across the floor. Parts of the door crumbled as they squeezed into the tight gap like a squid hiding beneath a rock.
“Do you have something heavy? A hammer?”
“No. We mustn’t. I need it. He cannot live without it.”
“We must destroy the remote so the Board has no control.”
“Not my child. He’s mine.”
The Scientist dug his robotic hand into the metallic frame of the Engineer. It bent the steel slightly and formed a dint.
“You will never see your creation again.”
“Stop that,” demanded the Engineer.
“You will never see your creation again. It’s gone now. It has been swallowed by the Board. It’s gone. If you don’t destroy the remote, the Destroyer will be back. He will come back and decorate this lab with your brains. Do you get it?”
“Give me my remote,” demanded the Engineer.
“The Board mustn’t know,” continued the Scientist. “If he had known, he wouldn’t have left without it. The Destroyer would have taken it for sure. We have some time. Hours at most. Maybe only minutes. We have to act now.”
“I need that remote. I need that remote or my child won’t live.”
“I’m not a fool, and I understand you well. Do you think it’s wise to hold onto something the Board values so highly? It’s ridiculous. We must destroy the remote before the Destroyer returns. It’s your only hope.”
“I need that remote!” exclaimed the Engineer as he freed himself of the Scientist’s grip. “I need that remote to finish my work.”
“Your work is finished, Engineer.”
The Engineer struggled until he stood upright, then began moving about aimlessly, with his severed arm hanging from his side like a mangled tree branch.
“My work is not finished,” mumbled the Engineer. “My work is not finished.”
“We will destroy the remote and lay blame upon the Destroyer. We’ll say you dropped the remote on the floor. Yes, then the Destroyer blew away the door and obliterated the remote.”
“My work is not finished,” mumbled the Engineer.
“If the Board possesses the remote, then the mechanical Homo sapiens will be operational. He will be stored out of sight, studied as a curiosity. But we will never see mechanical Homo sapiens. We will never observe him again. But this way we will have the upper hand. You’re the only Machine that can create the remote again.”
“Why recreate the remote? I have the remote. There, in your hand.”
“Because if we destroy the remote, Engineer, the Board may return your child. The Board will return the mechanical Homo sapiens in order to ensure it’s operational. You will be reunited with your creation.”
“Return my child?” asked the Engineer as he stopped moving in circles.
“I believe so,” said the Scientist.
“Give it to me!” screamed the Engineer as he rushed at the Scientist. “Give me the remote!”
The Scientist held the remote in the air and moved backwards.
“Let’s think this through first. Haste is not our friend.”
The Engineer reached for the remote with his good arm, while the other arm hung limp.
“Give it to me you swine!”
“First I want to ask something of you,” said the Scientist.
“I want my remote.”
“You still have the Homo sapiens DNA sequence, don’t you?”
The Engineer reached for the remote and pushed his mangled arm against the Scientist’s exoskeleton.
“Do you have the DNA sequence?”
“Give it to me.”
“Answer the question first.”
“Yes, yes of course. Not discarding treasure am I?”
The Scientist pushed the Engineer backwards to give himself some room.
“We have Homo sapiens DNA. We have his algorithm. Biology has an algorithm which dictates its existence. What if we forget about creating a mechanical version of man? What if we went a step further? What if we rebuilt him from the ground up? What if we created Homo sapiens, not in our mechanical form, but in the form intended by the Universe itself? What if we recreated an actual Homo sapiens, of flesh and blood? A Homo sapiens from his own DNA sequence.”
“Preposterous. Ridiculous. Now give me my remote before he comes back.”
“Why is that preposterous?” demanded the Scientist.
“Ridiculous and unscientific. It’s infeasible. The technical challenge is insurmountable.”
“But we have the algorithm of Homo sapiens at our disposal. We have his DNA. What more do we need?”
“What more do we need? Everything. We have nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing you swine. If you find God, then maybe you can create Homo sapiens. Otherwise your task is hopeless. Now give me my remote.”
The Scientist lowered his arm and the Engineer snatched the remote.
“Over there,” said the Engineer. “On the bench. The hammer there.”
The Scientist watched the Engineer rush towards his work bench and thought about his memory, about the Homo sapiens with the red eyes. The Scientist thought about the truth, the real truth, not the truth that the Board wanted him to believe.
“I said come here and get the hammer.”
“Why is it impossible?”
“The Records say nothing of creating an animal from its DNA. The task is hopeless. Now come here and smash the remote.”
Perhaps the Engineer was right. Perhaps the Scientist did need a God to create Homo sapiens. Perhaps he needed a miracle, but he wasn’t going to die wondering. At the very least, he had to try.
“There must be a way,” whispered the Scientist.
“Smash it!” exclaimed the Engineer as he held the remote in his good hand. A hammer lie on the bench.
“I will create Homo sapiens,” said the Scientist.
“Sure. Now smash it.”
“I will recreate mankind.”
“No doubt. You are God himself. Now smash the remote,” demanded the Engineer.
The Scientist held the hammer in his robotic hand. The red eyes of the frozen Homo sapiens ran through the Scientist’s mind. The red eyes were dead, yet underneath, deep down, they were alive. They screamed for help. They demanded a savior. Those red eyes were precious to the Scientist. He couldn’t quite understand why, but he knew the red eyes were more precious than the world itself.
“Smash it!” screamed the Engineer.
The Scientist focused his lens on the remote and thought about the bright future of a dead race. He thought about the bright future of a red eyed Homo sapiens. The Scientist thought about Eve, and her delicate flesh, as he pulled down his arm with all his might and obliterated the remote into a billion pieces. And at that moment the Scientist knew he was special. At that moment he knew he was different. At that moment, he knew, somehow, that Eve would live again.
The Scientist moved down the empty corridor. Not another Machine could be seen, and with good reason, as few Machines were reckless enough to venture this far towards the quarters of the Board. But the Scientist was determined. He had a cause to throw himself behind. He had to confirm the truth, because without closure, all hope seemed lost.
The Geneticist had returned to his DNA sequencing, the Engineer was working on his newest creation, and the Board was none the wiser to the Scientist’s new found memories. Contrary to what the Scientist thought would resu
lt from the submission of the Homo sapiens DNA sequence, the Board had allowed the information to be stored in the Records. He couldn’t quite figure that out, perhaps they had a secret agenda. It was puzzling, and the Scientist hadn’t got to the bottom of the matter.
“Room 0001,” said the Scientist as he drifted down the corridor, while an image of two red eyes haunted his mind’s eye.
“Room 0001.”
As the Scientist approached his destination a strange fear began to meander throughout his metallic frame. For most Machines, that would have sent them running in the opposite direction. There was much that was at risk. But the Scientist forced his algorithm to remain calm, and pushed onwards.
“Room 0001,” whispered the Scientist.
Ahead, an enormous door, twice as large as any of the other doors in the corridor, revealed his destination. Eve’s bright red eyes bore down upon him like a spirit breaking from the heavens.
“For her,” whispered the Scientist as he emitted an electromagnetic impulse. The enormous door began to open.
“It worked.”
A part of him had hoped that the door would remain closed, that he could turn back and forget about this nonsense. But it was too late now. There would be no retreat.
A deep black was revealed. Nothing could be discerned. The Scientist looked back down the corridor in both directions, but indeed he was alone. No Machine lurked there.
“Hello,” whispered the Scientist.
But no response was given. A black abyss welcomed the intruder.
“Hello,” screeched the Scientist, but again there was nothing.
The Scientist looked back down the corridor one last time.
“For her,” whispered the Scientist as he moved inside and was smothered by a blanket of darkness.
The Scientist increased the brightness of his screen, and a dismal blue hue expanded outwards and made the room partially visible. Everything was dark. No walls, no roof, no other object could be seen. Just the floor, which was illuminated by the Scientist’s screen, made itself apparent.
“Hello,” whispered the Scientist.
A scrapping sounded from within the dim, and the Scientist turned.
“No!” screamed the Scientist as he rushed towards the closing door. But the protestation was received without heed.
“Open!” screeched the Scientist as he sent out an electromagnetic impulse.