“That shouldn’t be hard. You are a total idiot,” said Stein.
Clayborn gave him the finger. “Screw you, Stein.”
“I assure you that making anyone look foolish was never my intention, sir,” said Fin.
“Screw you, too, Blue,” Clayborn said.
“Speaking of which,” said Stein. “I know this little whorehouse down on the edge of Cytown. There’s this Slimer there that can suck the chrome off your Pulser. You guys want to head down there?”
“You would allow a Cybernite to put their mouth on your weapon?” Fin said. “That seems quite reckless.”
“Not that weapon, Blue,” Clayborn said. “The other one. You do have one, don’t you?”
“What you are suggesting seems somewhat disgusting, sir.”
“That’s because you’ve never tried it.”
“You know, it seems damned unfair that Cys get to have all the fun with none of the consequences,” said Stein.
“Are you referring to our engineered sterility?” asked Fin.
“What do you think?”
“At this point, I am not sure what to think.”
“This is where you shove off, Blue,” said Clayborn, putting a meaty hand on Fin’s shoulder. “It’s time for the real men to go out and play. See you tomorrow bright and early.”
Fin stood up, bowed, and wished them all well. He walked out of the restaurant, unmuted his Commlink, and thumbed through The Word until he found the selection he wished to hear again.
Chapter 2
You see the world through colored glass and truth as a reflection in a disturbed pool. You must have faith. You must have hope. There must be love. The greatest of these is love, for without it, you have nothing.
Outside the restaurant, the sky was its usual cloudless late-afternoon blue. It was well after five o’clock. The clouds were always gone from the sky by five. So Council had decreed because anything more than a brief and subtle shift in the sky’s uniformity could disrupt citizen equilibrium and disturb the peace.
Fin inhaled deeply, listening to the atmospheric controllers fixed to the tops of the city’s highest buildings like far away hives of humming bees. To the citizens of Periculum, their constant hum was little more than an ignorable part of a peaceful world, but these machines were not merely a background noise that never stopped and never changed. They made the clouds come and go on Council’s schedule. They scrubbed the air of pollutants, fumes, bacteria, and viruses. They created the perfect environment for the artificial flowers and polyplastic trees that graced the railings and lined the upper walkways.
On these upper walkways, their workday done, men and women were out for the dinner hour, filing into the walkway cafes, laughing and talking, so happy and content in their idyllic existence, so unaware of either the Great War that raged on outside their bastion of serenity or of the unending flow of Cybernites on the sidewalks below. The women thumbed their Commlinks, searching for the perfect nanofabric for that evening; while the men talked politics, smoked tobacco-less cigars, and sampled the Council-approved drink of the night.
Fin stepped aside to let a group of them pass, lowering his gaze to avoid eye contact. No Cybernite was to look a human in the eye while in the city. So Council had decreed. Swiping his ID to open the gate, Fin took the steps down to the lower sidewalk to begin the trek to the Downtown Station and the train that would take him home. This time he minded the traffic signals. This time he received no warnings or fines. Several blocks along, he heard someone calling his name. He muted his Commlink, and when he looked up, he saw Dr. Shepherd waving to him from the upper walkway. Graying and frail, Noah Shepherd was a man deserving of the title Ancient One. The years weighed heavily on him. Yet Fin could not remember a time when Dr. Shepherd’s eyes had not sparkled at the sight of the one he called his perfect son. Fin bowed in return—the proper response.
“Wait there,” Shepherd called out. “We’ll be right down.”
The woman assisting Dr. Shepherd down the steps was not one with whom Fin was acquainted. She struck him as unusual, so he studied her more closely. One of his responsibilities as an SIA agent was to observe and interpret appearance and behavior, for the mask of friendship was too often a cover for a dangerous adversary. This woman was twenty or so years old, Fin judged. He noted her pale complexion, unheard of for a human since the law required that all citizens of Periculum receive weekly broad-spectrum light treatments to mitigate the effects of the lack of real sunlight. Her buzz-cut reddish hair was unusual, too. The number of red-haired citizens was statistically insignificant, and short hair was considered inappropriate for women though there was no law governing hair length that Fin was aware of. She wore a simple white attendant’s uniform, a color and style rarely chosen for a nanofabric. She stood over two meters tall, was thin but clearly muscular judging by the ease with which she guided Shepherd. She was an interesting puzzle to be solved.
His analytical gaze moved on to the other woman who seemed to be with them but who walked a step behind. She wore a gray suit. She was clearly a Cybernite, but like Fin, she was none of the four standard colors. Like him, she was unique. Her skin was a pale violet, her longish hair a shade darker than that. Her eyes were gray-blue, a strange mismatch for a Cybernite. And there was something about her look, her smile, and her demeanor that puzzled Fin when their eyes met. Two women. Two puzzles. He looked away and down at the pavement as the three parted the sea of Cybernites and approached.
Shepherd took Fin by the arm and they moved to the edge of the street. “God be with you, son,” he said.
Fin said nothing in reply, continuing to look down.
“Oh, right. How silly of me,” said Shepherd. He turned to the woman in white and handed her his Commlink. “Take care of that, would you Esse? We can’t have my perfect son recycled on such a lovely day as this, now can we?”
“Of course, Noah,” the woman replied.
Her voice. Fin recognized her voice, but couldn't place from where.
She thumbed a command into the device and handed it back. “He is cleared to speak, Noah."
“Thank you, dear,” Shepherd said. “Now, shall we try this again? God be with you, son.”
Fin bowed. “And with us all, Ancient One.”
“How many times have I told you? Dr. Shepherd will do just fine, boy.”
“I am sorry, sir.”
“And you don’t have to look down when you’re around me, you know,” he said. “I rather like Cybernites eyes. After all, I designed them. The people who think they’re creepy just don’t understand beauty.”
Fin returned the old man’s weathered gaze and wrinkled smile. “It is good to see you, Dr. Shepherd. You look well.” He glanced at the doctor’s companions.
Shepherd noticed. “Ah yes, where are my manners? Fin, this lovely lady is Semperesse,” he said of the woman in white. “Without her, I’d be nothing.”
“Pleased to meet you, Fin,” Semperesse bowed.
Fin bowed in return.
“Come, come,” said Shepherd. “This isn’t a formal occasion. We’re all friends here.”
Fin extended his hand. “Very nice to meet you, too, Semperesse. Have we met before?”
She accepted the gesture. "We may have," she replied. Her grip was firm, her skin cooler than most humans, but within acceptable parameters, indicating she was neither nervous nor upset by the encounter. “And call me Esse,” she added.
“Oh, and be sure you give proper emphasis to the short ‘e’ at the end of her name,” Shepherd noted. “Nothing annoys her more than to be called Ess.”
Fin took Esse’s shrug as embarrassment. “Did you know that in one of the ancient languages your name means ‘to live forever?’” he remarked.
“See? Didn’t I tell you he was smart?” said Shepherd.
“Yes, Noah, you did,” Esse replied.
“I am proficient in every known language, including many no longer in use,” Fin explained. His eyes’ journey from
face to face ended with the violet-skinned Cybernite. He again yielded to her gaze and looked away, feeling as if he had lost a battle in a war he did not know he was fighting.
“And this is Nova,” Shepherd said of the violet one. “You can look at her, too, son. She won’t bite.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that,” Nova said.
Fin said, “God be with you, Nova.”
She stared at his outstretched hand.
“Shake his hand, dear,” said Shepherd.
“If you say so,” she shrugged.
They shook hands, he studying her face and she avoiding his gaze. She was intent on a group of Grays with heads downcast eyeing them furtively as they passed by. Fin noted the change in temperature in her skin and the rise in moisture as their hands met. She was nervous, anxious he decided, but there was also a troubling sense of aversion in her that Fin didn’t understand.
“Can I have my hand back, please?” she said.
Embarrassed, Fin let go. “I am curious,” he began.
“Let me guess, about my color?”
“Well, yes. I was under the impression that I was the only prototype. Yet, like me, your color is unique and you have only your name tattooed on your neck.”
Shepherd intervened. “My apologies, boy. I meant to tell you about her at your last check-in, but it completely slipped my mind.” He winced suddenly, clutching at his hip. “This damn thing is acting up again. Esse, schedule me for a replacement, would you?”
“Of course, Noah,” Esse replied.
“Thank God for polycloning, right?” he said. “I’d be long gone without all these replacement parts.”
“I have met humans who think it is unnatural that you have lived so long,” Fin remarked.
“Really?” said Shepherd.
“Yes. In fact, one of my coworkers believes you are an alien simply because you are over three hundred years old.”
Shepherd laughed. “Well over four hundred, actually, but, trust me, it’s all in the polycloning, son.”
Fin noticed Nova staring at him in the same way he analyzed others. Another piece in the puzzle. He kept his focus on Shepherd but his peripheral attention on her.
Shepherd continued, “Though I have to admit there comes a time when we’ve got to ask ourselves why we let this life go on any longer.”
“Life goes on because it can,” Fin said.
“True enough. But the real question is, should it?”
“Why should it not?"
“Because we don’t deserve it.”
“Is that not for God to decide, sir?”
“Yes, I suppose it is.”
Wrinkles upon wrinkles: that was how Fin always thought of Shepherd’s smile.
The old man continued, “I know that look, son. You have a question. Go ahead. Ask away.”
Fin turned to Nova, “My function is investigator. What is yours?”
“My function?” She laughed. “You mean my job?”
“Yes, your job.”
Shepherd said, “We’re still working on that, son. Nova is quite different from you—for one thing, her command of our rather idiomatic language makes her interactions with people more natural.”
“I noticed,” said Fin.
Shepherd took his arm. “No one will ever be like you, my perfect son. No one. Don’t you ever forget that.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Shepherd gestured broadly to the artificial sky. “Another glorious day in Periculum. Thanks be to God, right? You know, they really should make it rain here once in a while. I invested heavily in an umbrella company back in the day. Naturally, it went belly up after the shield came online. Cost me a bundle, I can tell you.” He took out an old pocket watch that was clipped to his jacket by a gold chain. He always kept it with him, though it rarely seemed to have the right time. Flipping it open, he ran his thumb once over its glass cover as he always did to clear the dust when there was no dust on it. “Oh my. Look at the time. We’d better get going. An old friend of mine is holding a memorial service for my dear Naamah and we don’t want to be late. Hard to believe it’s been over a year. She died just before you were born, don’t you know.”
“I am sorry for the passing of your mate, Dr. Shepherd,” Fin said. “I know how it still grieves you.”
“She was my life, son. I’m nothing without her.” Shepherd teetered unsteadily, complaining of his misbehaving hip when it was clearly not his hip causing the distress.
Esse took his arm to steady him. “Perhaps Fin could join us?” she said.
“Yes.” Shepherd brightened somewhat. “That would be nice.”
Fin checked his Commlink. “My shift ended over an hour ago and my city time expires soon. I am sorry, Dr. Shepherd. I would be honored to attend, but I must go now. It is the law.”
Deflated, Shepherd said, “And the law is the law, I suppose. No worries. I’ll see you at your next check-in.”
“I always enjoy my trips to Polyclonic Technologies, sir. I find the building architecture particularly interesting.”
“Yes, well, that’s what I get for asking a cathedral architect to design it. God be with you, boy.”
Fin bowed. “And with us all.”
Shepherd and his companions returned to the upper walkway. Fin remained on the lower, keeping a brisk pace along the megascraper-walled streets. Leaving the Commerce Sector, he entered the Park Sector. It was comprised of two city blocks devoted entirely to recreation, where no upper and lower level separated human from Cybernite. There was no need. Admittance for synthetics was by special authorization, and only Fin had been given that. The Park Sector had walking trails and a bench-lined pond. There were ducks to feed. There were colorful flowers and a variety of trees to marvel at. There were even small animals wandering about, but none of it was real. The trees and flowers were artificial, and the animals were robotic replicas of creatures that hadn’t existed for centuries. Fin swiped his ID at the gate and took a path through the deserted park, not because he enjoyed going that way, but because it was the only place in Periculum where it was legal to run. In every other sector, running was a crime. For humans caught running, it was a five-credit fine. For Cybernites, it carried the presumption that they were running from something illegal they had done. The punishment was immediate recycling regardless of credit balance. So Council had decreed. Fin checked the time on his Commlink, noting how many minutes of city time he had left. He sprinted across the empty park, making straight for the Downtown Sector.
The hub of the city’s underground transportation system was located in the Downtown Sector. Periculum was built over top of a small portion of the ruins of a sprawling city, a megalopolis that had once stretched for hundreds of kilometers in every direction. Carved into the solid rock beneath those ruins and beneath Periculum was a multi-level grid of tunnels through which passenger and freight trains serviced every sector of the city. In the deepest of these tunnels was the Lower Downtown platform. Unlike the other levels, access was not gained to Lower Downtown by glass elevator or pristine escalator but by a long steep flight of metal steps. There were no coffee stands or snack bars down there, no piped-in music or holographic billboards. The lighting was poor, the air was always damp and smelling of urine, and there were no security cameras or police to protect it, only Lawspeakers with flashing amber lights to administer justice to those who ventured down there. The only train that stopped at Lower Downtown was the Northend train, the only train authorized to cross the impenetrable Periculum shield. It was the train Fin needed to take to get to his apartment in the Artificial Sector, the sector more commonly known as Cytown.
He descended through the maze of levels, taking the out-of-the-way route prescribed for Cybernites. When he reached the Lower Downtown platform, a train was waiting. He boarded it. The inside of the car was poorly lit by red emergency lights and what few there were flickered on and off as the train pulled out of the station. It was packed with Cybernites heading home after work. Human
s never took the Northend train. Fin had not seen a single one in the year he had been taking it to and from the city. It wasn’t because the train was a string of cattle cars packed to bursting, though it was exactly that. It wasn’t that the cars lacked the comfortable seating and air conditioning of other trains. In fact, they did. It wasn’t because the cars were filthy and graffiti-covered either, although they were. Those weren’t the reasons why humans never rode the Northend train. It was because it was going to Cytown where no humans lived, not even the poorest of them.
Fin was tired and nodding off when he felt the familiar tingle in his neck tattoo as the shield scanned him for clearance. As it continued on to other Cybernites, there was a sizzling crackle and a flash of light at the back of the car. Buried in the unintelligible static of the train’s Lawspeaker, Fin heard the words, so Council has decreed.
The Yellow in the seat next to him sighed and said, “There goes another one. You’d think a Yellow would be smart enough to know when her city time is up.”
“And where’s the recycle bot to clean up the mess?” said another Yellow. “I’ll tell you where. Nowhere.”
“Don’t you be calling my Daisy a mess. She was my friend,” said a third.
“How’s a body supposed to know when your city time's up without a Commlink?” someone behind them complained.
“When was the last time you saw a Cy with a Commlink?”
“What if we lose track of time? What if the Man makes us stay over to finish something? What then?”
“Then the shield reads your tattoo and zap! You’re gone,” a Yellow laughed darkly. “And better off after a day like today, if you ask me.”
“They should at least give us a damn warning or something,” said another.
“Watch the bad-chatter or you’ll be next.”
A faint burning smell spread throughout the car. Fin got up, offering his seat to a Yellow who at first appeared to be ill when in fact she was high, judging from her unsteady stance and the many injector marks on her arms. He had his suspicions about which illegal drug she had taken, but he said nothing. She was a prostitute heading home after a tiring day servicing the humans. She commented on his strange-looking skin that seemed purple in the eerie red light. She opened her coat, offering him a free sample of her wares for his kindness. He politely declined and moved to another car that was crowded with Grays going home after their shift of building for the humans the things that had become too dangerous for them to build for themselves. The workers in the car seemed agitated about something. When Fin asked what was wrong, he was told that one of them had fallen fifty stories and died that day. His fellow workers had wanted to hold a brief service at the construction site recycling dumpster where the foreman had deposited the remains, but they were told they’d be let go if they stopped working. It wasn’t right. Gray-716, Series-100 was a good egg. He had a mate. He had a name. It was Tor, and he deserved better.
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