“Yes, sir.”
“Then out with it. What’s bothering you?”
“Sir, Cybernites are constructed of artificial poly-this and poly-that.”
“Oh. Poor choice of words on my part. I apologize.”
“Is that why humans look down on us? Because they see us as artificial?”
Shepherd studied his creation’s face. “The world is not a simple place, son.”
“So I have been told, but this seems simple enough to me. It is wrong for humans to treat us this way.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, they treat everyone and everything that way. How do you think we got in this mess in the first place? Why do you think this war is never-ending? Humans don’t care about each other or you or the world for that matter. They only care about possessions and power and their own petty existences.”
“They can change.”
“Is that what you think?”
“It is what I hope for.”
“As you've said, but your hope is misplaced, I’m afraid. Humanity will never understand, no matter how many seas they cross or skies they change.” Shepherd patted Fin’s hand. “And there I go like an old man harping on the same nuisances again and again. Next thing you know, I’ll be telling you all about my ailments and the meds I take for them. I’m sorry, son. I know this has been hard for you, but you should know that I’m very proud of what you’ve accomplished.”
“I have accomplished nothing if I fail at the one task for which I was created.”
“You haven’t failed me, son. They have.”
“What do you mean, sir?”
Shepherd looked away and silence like the Cytown darkness descended on them. Noticing a paperweight turned incorrectly, he adjusted it until it was more to his liking.
“Sir?” said Fin. “What did you mean by saying that the humans failed you?”
When Shepherd looked back at Fin, he was smiling again. “Oh nothing. I was just trying to make you feel better I suppose. From the look on your face, I didn’t do such a good job.”
“It is hard to feel good about reaching the end of a pointless existence.”
“Which brings me back to the question I asked on the way here. You’re not planning to end it all, are you?”
“I am not afraid of death, but neither do I long for it.”
Shepherd patted him on the shoulder. “Good, because I’m afraid I left my suicide kit back at the office.”
“Sir?”
“It’s a joke, son.”
Esse returned to announce that lunch was ready. Shepherd brushed off Fin’s proffered hand, saying he wasn’t that old and crotchety, yet he allowed Esse to take his arm to steady him. They walked in slow uneven steps down a long wood-paneled hallway. It was lined with paintings of scenes from nature. Fin remarked that their style seemed similar to the waterfall painting Shepherd had given him. He asked who the artist was.
“Me,” Shepherd replied. “I had this crazy notion some time ago that I could preserve the beauty of this world in art, but as you can see I wasn’t very good at it. So I gave it up.”
“The painting you gave me was destroyed when my apartment was ransacked,” Fin said. “I am sorry.”
“Pity. That was one of my better efforts. Oh well, Ars longa, vita brevis, occasio praeceps, experimentum periculosum, iudicium difficile, as they say.”
Fin translated, “Life is short, art long, opportunity fleeting, experiment dangerous, judgment difficult.”
“And never forget it, particularly the last part. Judgment is always the most difficult, especially when it is final.”
They continued down the hall and entered a dining room. Beyond its panoramic open windows was a wide blue ocean bordered by a white sand beach. Waves lapped peacefully at the shore.
“An illusion, obviously,” said Shepherd, directing Fin to a seat at the table. “We’re nowhere near the water. Besides, the real ocean is brown and there aren’t any beaches like that anymore, not since sea levels rose. I do miss the beach.”
Fin recognized the savory smell of meat. “Agent Clayborn likes cooked flesh, too,” he remarked.
Shepherd smiled. “The substance that Agent Clayborn and the rest of the city thinks is meat is actually a synthetic protein, grown in lab-farms in the Med Sector. It looks like meat, smells like meat, even tastes like meat to those who have never had real meat. Council tells them that we raise our own breed of cattle on farms in hidden places within the unprotected zone.”
“Why the lie?”
“The world thrives on lies, or hadn’t you noticed?” Shepherd shrugged off Fin's questioning look. “You know how they feel about Reconstitute. How do think they would react to genetically engineered lab-grown protein? Personally it doesn’t bother me in the least, but I do prefer a good steak.”
Esse placed a thick cut of meat on Fin’s plate and then served Shepherd.
“Dig in, son,” Shepherd said, “unless you’ve lost your appetite, in which case I apologize. If Naamah were here, she’d tell me I talk too much.”
“I have no qualms about eating engineered food, sir. I actually prefer Reconstitute for practical and ethical reasons, and now that I know that humans are eating similar substances, I look forward to trying this.”
“I guess I didn’t make myself clear,” said Shepherd. “This is meat, real meat from a real cow.”
Fin stared at his plate. He had never seen the cooked flesh of an animal other than tunnel rat before and that he found offensive, not because of where the rat came from or what it ate to survive, but because it had once been a living creature. “You have cows?”
“A small herd.”
“I thought they were extinct.”
“They were. I created more. Did I neglect to mention that I keep quite a collection of genetic blueprints here? We have a small herd out on the far side of the valley. Esse takes care of them. The dear girl does everything for me. A word of advice—don’t ever get old. You won’t like it.”
“You raise cows, kill them, and eat them?”
“You make it sound so morbid. We harvest them. Think of it as a crop. Go ahead, try a bite.”
“I do not know if I can.”
“Just one. Go on. For me.”
Fin took a bite, chewed, and swallowed.
“Well?” said Shepherd.
“The flavor is somewhat pleasant, but knowing how wasteful and sad this is, I am conflicted.”
“The skin, the bone, the meat, every part of the animal is used in some way. This tabletop is cowhide, that seat cushion, too. We grind the bones to fertilize the garden. We collect the waste and recycle it. We even capture the methane from the air. I could go on, but the point is: not a single gram of the animal is wasted. Esse will give you a tour of the entire process if you like.”
“No, thank you, sir.”
“Fin, environmentally speaking, it’s a zero-impact product.”
“This cow is not a product, sir. It was a living creature and you raised it knowing that someday you would kill it and eat it. You wouldn’t do that to another human would you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t compare a cow to a man. There’s a basic value difference there.”
“Is it more appropriate to compare the value of the cow’s life to that of a Cybernite?”
Shepherd set his fork down. “That’s not fair. You know I tried to win Cybernites the same rights as humans. The Artificial Intelligence Act was mine. Mine, I tell you!” He slammed his fist down on the table. “It was supposed to grant you equality.”
“And yet it has ensured our slavery.”
“Do you think that was my doing?” Shepherd said, exasperated.
“And the shield? Why does it not cover Cytown, too?”
“That was not my doing either. Oh, no. I wanted my Cybernites protected, but all the politics and the infighting . . .”
“I do not mean to be disrespectful, sir, but why?”
“They didn’t have the resources. At le
ast that was the official story.”
“And the truth?”
Shepherd buried his face in his hands. “The truth is I have failed you, son. I have failed them. These petty, selfish, hateful creatures . . . They don’t deserve to live. Neither do I.”
Fin realized, “The failed life you were referring to earlier was your own.”
When Shepherd looked up, he was crying. “I had such hopes for them. They could have come out of this Great War a stronger, unified race. They could have built a better world. If only they’d learned their lesson.” He sighed. “But they didn’t. They never will. Everything I’ve done has been pointless.”
“You are not contemplating suicide, are you sir?”
“I don’t have to. My time is coming soon enough. The end times are upon us all.”
Fin studied the doctor’s expression as it changed. He had seen humans do that before. He had seen Mama do it. They called it putting on a brave face, as if a bandage could cure the infection festering beneath.
Shepherd said, “I believe I’ve said enough. Lunch is getting cold. Let’s eat.”
Fin took a bite of the vegetables. He had never had real vegetables before. Those he enjoyed. He ate several servings of them along with the strange fruits and fresh-baked bread that was offered. The meat, he left on his plate.
Over a sweet dessert and coffee, Shepherd said, “Well, that’s it for the five-credit tour. You’ve seen what mankind has done, and I’ve given you a glimpse of what things were like before they ruined everything. You’ve had a taste of life’s simple pleasures—a beautiful day, good food, and the company of friends—things this world will never see again because of them.”
“You cannot give up, sir.”
“But I can stop trying to save what can’t be saved. When people don’t learn from their mistakes, they must pay for them.”
“But you have done such wonderful things.”
“Not the least of which is you.”
“You mean the Cybernites?”
“No, I mean you. Every color from Gray to Green, every tweak, every improvement, has led to you. You are my perfect son.”
Fin lowered his head. “I am far from perfect.”
“I may have given up, but you can’t, boy. I forbid it.”
“Agent Clayborn hasn’t said as much, but it seems clear that Commander Roberts is going to dismiss me.”
“Predictably.”
“Sir?”
“In a world of cause and effect, events are entirely predictable. What kind of scientist would I be if I didn’t see this coming?”
“What should I do?”
“Do you trust me, son?” said Shepherd.
“Yes, completely.”
“Then try not to worry. Everything will be fine. You’ll see.”
“But I have made mistakes, serious mistakes. Am I defective?”
Shepherd’s voice rose in anger. “Don’t you ever say that again. Do you hear me? You are not defective.”
Esse came into the room and began clearing away the dishes. Her expression showed concern when her gaze met Fin’s.
“I cannot permit you to blame yourself, son,” Shepherd continued. “If anyone is to blame, it’s me.”
“My shortcomings are not your fault, Dr. Shepherd.”
“Indeed they would be, if there were any. After all, I created you. I am entirely responsible for you.”
“Then you must be disappointed in me, sir,” Fin said.
“Never. Will you do one thing for me, son?”
“Anything, sir.”
“I would prefer that you not mention the Ark to anyone. The fewer people who know about this place the better.”
“Of course, sir. I will tell no one.”
“Good. Are you going back to work tomorrow?”
“I was told to take a few days off.”
“Perfect.” Shepherd stood up. “That gives you time to do a little shopping.”
“Shopping?”
“For furniture, new clothes. You can’t live in an empty apartment, and you certainly can’t go around dressed like that. That just wouldn’t do.”
“All my credits were stolen.”
“Esse will see to it that you have what you need, right dear?”
Esse bowed. “Of course, Noah.”
“I cannot take your money,” Fin said.
“You can and you will.”
“I will repay you every credit.”
“That’s the spirit. I have to dash now. I have a tele-meeting in a few minutes. Esse will take you home. She has some errands to run for me. Don’t worry, son. You’ll get through this. I have complete faith in you.”
Chapter 7
I am your life and your death. I am your beginning and your end. All that happens in between is for you to choose. Should you choose to turn from me, your fate will be sealed with the gods you have made, and the Creator’s anger will be upon you.
Fin paused his Commlink as the Levcar traveled low over a pockmarked and gouged wasteland where war had ripped open the skin of the world and laid bare its beating heart. He had asked Esse if he could see the devastation up close to better understand the extent of the harm mankind had wrought. She had cautioned against flying so low in that highly unstable area, but at his insistence she acquiesced.
The world seemed so peaceful in death, so tranquil, so at rest with its fate, like a silent bombed-out hovel or a recycling dumpster filled with the dead; but the appearance was not the reality and this once beautiful creature was not dead yet. The product of mankind's folly was a slumbering hideous abomination, and they had disturbed it. It bellowed in protest, exhaling a thick cloud of steam like the angry dragon awakened by intruders searching through its treasure hoard. The fissures around the Levcar exploded and green plumes of sand spewed forth from the beast’s maw, coating the windscreen and clogging the intakes. Navigational systems failed. The magnetic drive shut down. There was no more maneuvering port or starboard, forward or aft. There was only down.
“Controls are offline,” Esse said. “Brace yourself. We’re going down hard.”
Another violent exhale from the angry planet tossed the car clear of the eruption where they caught the edge of a massive crater, flipped over several times, and landed belly-down in a bed of ash. The frustrated beast howled and swirled above them, searching the rim of the crater for the prey it knew was hiding somewhere close, bellowing all the louder when it could not find it.
“Are you all right, Fin?” Esse asked.
“Yes,” he replied. "Are you?"
“I'm fine."
“I am so sorry, Esse. I should have listened to you.”
“These storms can be quite unpredictable.” The Levcar’s emergency lights came on, casting shadows across the barren crater. Esse checked the instrument readouts. “There’s some minor damage to the undercarriage—nothing too serious. The problem is that the storm’s countervailing magnetic field has ionized the sand. The engine intakes are blocked. We can’t take off.”
“Can we wait it out?” Fin asked.
“Shields are still functioning on backup power, so we’re safe as long as we stay inside, but the air scrubbers are offline. They must be clogged, too. That gives us about fifteen minutes of breathable air.”
“Can we clear the sand away from the intakes and restart the engine?”
“That would require going outside and I don’t think that’s a good idea. The car isn’t equipped with protective suits and this area is highly radioactive.”
Fin thought a moment. “I will go outside and clear the intakes.”
“That’s a bad idea, Fin.”
“This is my responsibility.”
“Fin, you’ll die.”
“Cybernites were designed to survive in harsh environments.”
“You won’t survive this.”
“But you will.”
They studied each other’s resolve.
Esse finally said, “We still have fifteen minutes. Perhap
s this would be a good time to pray that the storm passes.”
“I do not think God cares what happens to us,” Fin said.
“Isn’t it written somewhere in The Word that he knows the names of all his children from the greatest to the least and forgets none?”
“That does not mean he cares.”
“Do you believe in God, Fin?”
“The God that created man, or the God that men created?”
“Is there a difference?”
“One creates out of the love of life, the other out of hatred for it. I do not know for certain if the former exists, but there is no doubt the latter does.”
“Do you hate them for what they’ve done to your people, to this world?” said Esse.
Fin replied, “The humans were given so much and asked so little of in return, yet still they managed to squander their gift. This world was a paradise. Now they fight an endless war over its carcass. I do not hate them. I pity them.”
“This war will not go on forever. Everything that has a beginning has an end."
“Including our air supply,” Fin said. The air inside the Levcar was growing stale. Fin stared at the lifeless crater, the swirling winds above, and the clumps of ionized sand that clung so stubbornly to the windscreen like a scab to a festering sore. “If greed and hatred are what brought the world to this, they cannot be our path out. Stay in the car, Esse. I am going outside.”
Esse smiled. “In The Word it says that there is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for a friend. I would add that there is no greater foolishness than to lay down one’s life unnecessarily." She pointed to the windscreen. The sand had begun to flake off. The air started to circulate again. The laser wipers powered up and sizzled against the windshield, disintegrating the remaining sand. The magnetic drive engaged and they took off.
It was late when Esse dropped Fin off on the roof of Cyblock-101. The lights were out. The elevator wasn’t working. Guided by the beam from his Commlink, Fin took the steps down to his floor where it smelled faintly of smoke. The hall was dark. He found Mama painting his door and Nova holding a candle to give her light.
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