SINthetic
Page 21
The camera went in tight on Campbell’s eyes, and Melinda could see the determination, the righteousness in them. She felt an answering stir somewhere in her gut, a call to action like she hadn’t felt since she first decided to become a cop.
“They will fail. If even only one of you manages to grab the information, and repost it, it will get out. It contains medical data, video, test results, a thousand, thousand data points that back up everything I’m saying.
“Some of you already know that what I’m saying is true. You’ve known for a long time. You’ve been called a synth-sympathizer and stigmatized. Know that you were right. Keep fighting. Others will be swayed by the information, and realize that they’ve been guilty of horrible things.” Melinda felt a flash of guilt as she thought of her nanny and how she had almost pulled the trigger. “Know it. Understand it. Change it. Some won’t want to believe. It will be too hard, too painful to come to terms. Do it anyway. Coming to terms with what society has become is the first step to changing it. Some of you will refuse to believe, or just flat out won’t care. You’ll harp that the stability of society—even one built on the backs of slaves—is paramount. You’ll label me a terrorist. You’ll call for my head.”
Those sad eyes seemed to drink the light, to take on a far more ominous edge. For a brief moment, Melinda did not recognize the man on the screen. It was a Campbell she hadn’t seen, and she was reminded that he never really talked about what he did during the wars. “You’re welcome to try to take it.
“The way forward is simple. Free all so-called synthetics from their bondage. Immediately pass laws granting them status as full human beings, full citizens of their respective countries with all rights and privileges pertaining. The full details of our demands are included with the documentation provided.”
Campbell smiled. Even in his smile, Melinda could see his exhaustion. The past weeks for her had been tough, dealing with not only the departmental fallout from the events leading up to Arlene’s kidnapping, but helping her daughter recover emotionally. It looked like they’d been hell for Campbell, too.
“We are not naive or delusional. We understand that this cannot happen overnight. You have one month. But if February rolls around, and the nations of the world continue to insist that their citizens are allowed to be held in slavery, then may your respective gods have mercy on your souls. Because we will not.
“Take this as fair warning. You have thirty days to redress these wrongs. If not, you will face a war such as has never been fought in the history of this world. You have all the weapons. You have all the money. You think you have all the power. But you are wrong.
“It is a new year, a new dawn. The rights of man—of all mankind—will be restored with it, or we will burn it all down and start anew.
“To the synthetics listening, I have this message: Survive. You will be the most likely victims of a barbaric backlash against this message, and for that, we are truly sorry. Don’t fight back, even if you feel capable of breaking your indoctrination.”
The thought that synthetics could fight back—could physically resist—sent a jolt of fear coursing down Melinda’s spine. Was that even possible?
“Endure, as you always have. If you can, flee. Run. Escape. We will find you. We will help you.
“To those humans with a conscience—we ask that you shelter any synthetic you can, whether they were once ‘yours’ or if they find their way to you by some other means. By this act, you can start to atone.”
Another glance off camera.
“I’ve been informed that the authorities are closing in on our position. Remember: they do not want you to know the truth. But know this: the revolution has begun. You have thirty days to ensure that it is a peaceful one. If not—”
The transition cut off, leaving the afterimage of Campbell’s tired, sad eyes burning in Melinda’s brain.
“You’re going to help Mr. Campbell, right, Mommy?” Arlene asked.
Melinda looked down at her daughter. When had she woken up? How much had she seen?
After the kidnapping, Arlene had told her all about the nice pregnant lady who had talked to her and kept her from being too scared when the bad man had her. How she had comforted her and assured her that they’d both make it home, somehow. Evelyn. Anyone who would take the time to comfort a scared child deserved better than what the synthetics got. And if Campbell hadn’t put his life on the line, Melinda would never have gotten her daughter back.
She reached down and tousled her daughter’s hair. “Of course I will, niña,” she said softly. “Of course I will.”
A new year. A new beginning.
A revolution.
Acknowledgements
This book would never have been possible without the help of numerous people who took a rough and dusty idea and helped me clean it up and turn it into something worth writing. There is an army of people at work behind the scenes creating covers and back copy text and fixing all the little mistakes and a thousand other things besides. Many thanks to all of those individuals.
More specifically, I would like to thank Elizabeth May, my editor, and Laurie McLean, my agent for taking a risk on a wannabe author and lending their expertise to make the book stronger with every edit (no matter how painful some of those edits may have been!)
I’d also like to thank my martial arts instructors, Dai-Sifu Emin Boztepe, Sifu John Hicks, Sihing Trevor Jones and Guro Ron Ignacio, along with my many training partners along the way. Anything I got right is because of these folks. Anything I got wrong is a reflection of my own imperfect understanding.
Finally, and most importantly, I’d like to thank my wife, Julie Kagawa. Writing partner, gaming partner, training partner, and partner in all things.
Look for SINdicate, the next book in The New Lyons Sequence by J. T. Nicholas.
As the deadline for governments to acknowledge the rights of synthetics creeps closer, former New Lyons detective Jason Campbell makes ready to deliver on his promise to do whatever it takes to see the synthetics freed.
In the midst of protests and riots, Campbell and his conspirators are preparing to unleash the first wave of attacks against the halls of power when a body turns up on Campbell’s doorstep. Attached to it is a simple message: “I found you.”
Don’t miss SINdicate. Available wherever ebooks are sold.
About the Author
J.T. Nicholas was born in Lexington, Virginia, though within six months he moved (or was moved, rather) to Stuttgart, Germany. Thus began the long journey of the military brat, hopping from state to state and country to country until, at present, he has accumulated nearly thirty relocations. This experience taught him that, regardless of where one found oneself, people were largely the same. When not writing, Nick spends his time practicing a variety of martial arts, playing games (video, tabletop, and otherwise), and reading everything he can get his hands on. Nick currently resides in Louisville, Kentucky, with his wife, a pair of indifferent cats, a neurotic Papillion, and an Australian Shepherd who (rightly) believes he is in charge of the day-to-day affairs. Please visit his website at www.jtnicholas.com