by Andy Remic
“Let’s do it, then.”
They stepped through the cave entrance, guns held ahead of them.
~ * ~
It was white. Blinding white! It filled every molecule of Dex’s vision, and his arm came up to protect his eyes; but still the white was there, forcing through his arm, through his eyelids, hardwired straight into his brain.
Then it faded, and Dex lowered his arm, and found himself staring across a bright room - a bright cavern -a bright continent of computing technology. There were millions upon millions of glittering cabinets, stretching off before Dex for endless kilometres. His head snapped right, and Amba was standing there, a slight smile on her face, staring at something up ahead.
“We’re here?” said Dex.
“Yes,” said Amba, and pointed.
Dex looked ahead, to where a tall, gaunt, beautiful woman was standing. Her skin was a shimmering silver, and she wore a long, ankle-length silver dress which hugged her figure. Her hair was long and black, her eyes black portals into another dimension, and she was the most stunning creature Dex had ever seen in his life.
“You are SARAH?” said Amba.
“I am the avatar of the Monolith Mainframe, yes. On Earth, your Oblivion Government refer to me as SARAH, and that is a tag I am happy to live with.” She turned, fixed those dark portals on Dexter, and he shivered as he realised he was dealing with another entity. It looked human, but the eyes were all wrong.
What does that say about me? The most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and she’s a fucking avatar? How weird and sexually deviant am I?
“Are you here to save me, or kill me?” said SARAH.
Amba smiled; without humour. She lifted her FRIEND...
“No!” screamed Dexter.
~ * ~
There was a snap, and a crackle, and a smell of burning flesh. And for a long, long time that was all he could feel, all he could sense. It was like floating in one of the old VR Tubs before Brain-Fung Infections caused the shutdown of the global VR companies - only this time, before logging on, before jacking in, before the brain spikes and the spine heaves, when you used to float in that perfect senseless euphoria, simply existing in a perfect pink place, this time he was there, in that sterile world. Except for the smell. The burnt flesh smell.
Gradually, colours flickered and scrolled through varying degrees and Dexter Colls hung, immobile, wondering who he was, and where he was, and why he was here. Time had no meaning, and Dexter wondered if he was dead. Was that it? Game over? End of the world? End of his world, at least. And if so, what the hell hit him over the back of the head? How had it happened? Dex had zero recall. Dex had, in place of his mind, and his memories, zip. Nothing. Nada. He was an erased chip. He was a blank slate.
Slowly, memories trickled through his brain like acid through a digital sponge.
They said I was an android but that’s impossible, total bullshit, how could that be how could that happen the world doesn’t work like that and my mind doesn’t work like that and I have a wife the lovely Katrina and I love her love her very much she is the perfect wife the perfect woman we are a match, an integration, symbiotic and we make each other whole (gag) that was a joke and how can I joke if I’m a fucking android? Androids are created things and can’t have children and I’ve had children and I’ve proved myself before the whole of the world and humanity and every species scattered through the stars. But then, so what if I was an android? Life is life no matter how it was created and some still believe in God as if some superior being pointed his majestic finger and bam like a rabbit from a hat man was born. If that was the case then humanity itself was a created thing; hence, an android. We’re all androids. Only the human-made androids have been tampered with but hell, show me a human who hasn’t tampered with themselves in some way and I’ll call you a fucking liar. Who doesn’t change their hair? That’s changing the essence of the human construct. Who doesn’t genetically alter their weight and size and density nowadays when it’s so bloody easy? Everybody has it, everybody has surgery because hell, that’s just the way it is. Humans are so weak and frail and fragile. Easily broken. Easily killed.
Click.
White flooded Dexter’s senses and for a moment he was blinded, and overawed in every other sense. Then the mental onslaught backed away, drifted away, leaving him lying on what looked like an oval glass platform, ascending through white-lit space in some kind of vast cavern. He floated upwards, and Dex coughed, and spat on the smooth glass, and looked up. The walls were white, scrolling past as he rose through the air. Where the fuck am I now? he thought, frowning, and turned to see Amba on her hands and knees, coughing in a similar fashion. Her head turned and she stared at Dex.
“What’s going on?” he said.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Where are we?”
“Not sure. The lights went out. I felt suspended; like I do during a reboot. Then I woke up here. Same as you.” She continued to stare, then stood easily, powerfully, showing her android origins.
Dex crawled to his knees, and grumbled his way to his feet. He ached. No, he fucking ached. Every joint, every muscle, every bone. As if he’d been kicked to death by an angry mob of android-haters. Ha-ha.
“What happens now?”
Amba glanced down, through the thick glass oval. Her hair caught the breeze a little and floated around her in a very feminine way. “Too far to jump,” she said. “I guess they have us - and by they, I obviously mean Monolith. And SARAH.”
The air shimmered, and parted like a silver curtain. SARAH stood on the platform with them, and for a crazy moment Dex considered rushing her, kicking her ass, tossing her from the platform to fall like a stone down a well to be crushed into oblivion. But no. That wouldn’t work. It’d be a pointless exercise. SARAH was an avatar, a created thing, an extension of a computer system. More android than android, so to speak. If Dex killed it, the mainframe would simply create another. And another. Like a waterfall of avatars...
“Where are we?” said Dex.
“Inside me,” said SARAH, softly.
“The Monolith Mainframe?”
“If you wish to call it that. You humans put such store by labels, tags, names, monikers. You have to define everything, and I am doing my best to define this situation for you.”
“Why are we going up?” asked Amba, flexing her hands. She was obviously considering things in the same way as Dex, but her android killing logic stayed her hand. “What’s up there?”
“We are not going up,” said SARAH. “We are in descent.”
“You could have fooled me,” snapped Dex.
SARAH shrugged, her deep eyes resting on Dexter Colls. “I do not expect you to accept the fact; but it is so. I have no reason to lie. It is your simple human senses seeking to make sense of something in your reality, your state of normality. To ascend down would not make sense to your primitive mammal-derived brain, and thus it spins the truth into something more palatable. Do not worry, it is usual for the human mind to work like that. If you think of the planet spinning, there is no actual up or down anyway.”
“If we’re inside the machine, where are we going?” said Amba.
“To my Heart,” said SARAH. “What you don’t seem to understand, or comprehend, is that the Theme Planet was never terraformed, it was never constructed from metal and wood and stone. No machines were used to throw up mountain ranges and create beaches and forests and the oceans; no work teams of engineers and builders and construction specialists came in and made these rides.”
“I don’t understand,” said Dex. “If nobody built the Theme Planet, then how was it created?”
“I created it,” said SARAH. “I am the Theme Planet. I am the rides. I created everything out there you can see. It was bait. To lure in the humans; to bring you inside me.”
“What?” said Dexter, in abject disbelief. “You’re the... the whole planet?”
“I am not the planet,” said SARAH, “but I am the shell th
at floats on the bedrock. This place is nothing but a crater-pitted ball of bald rock. I am the flesh on the bones of the world. When I instruct a mountain to rear from the ground, it is so. When I seek to empty an ocean, it is so.”
“But then, if you are everything, if the whole planet... the shell is actually made from you, from your essence, or flesh, or whatever it is... then you must know where everything is? You must have known we were here. Been able to monitor us. Watch us.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” said SARAH, carefully. “Sometimes I am blind. Sometimes, there is simply too much information and I cannot process it all at once. Potentially, what you say is correct. In practice, I have grown too big. Grown too... data intensive. But when I did find you, and when I realised the reason for your intrusion, then I decided to monitor you - in part.”
“Why?” said Amba.
“To see how good you were. Of what you were capable. After all, you were the best Oblivion could send. And by your actions, you have proved to me that you are indeed the most perfect specimen of a human I have ever witnessed.”
“I’m an android,” said Amba.
“No,” said SARAH. “You are not. You are human. Perfect in every way.”
Dex was rubbing his stubbled chin, head to one side. “Why would you do that?” he said, his words soft, confusion glittering in his eyes.
“Which part?” said SARAH, in all innocence.
“Create a theme world. Bring the humans to you. What are you doing, eating them or something?” He laughed, and it was a weak laugh, tinged with elements of horror, and fear, and disbelief. But then, Dex had a hard enough time adjusting to normal aliens without discovering the entire outer coating of the world was some vast living organism; an outer shell with a brain. A planet with an artificial skin which could think for itself, and not only think for itself, but use intelligence and cunning to draw humans into its web, like a spider catching a fly; like a koroonga mammal trap (koroonga being twenty foot high plants that had somehow evolved the ability to read a creature’s mind and display a projection of whatever a creature most desired, drawing them into its gobble pod before snap: a slow, living digestion).
“I do not eat them,” said SARAH. “And I do not kill them.”
“Why the fuck do you want us here, then?” said Dex.
“You take something from us, don’t you?” said Amba, eyes glittering. She glanced down then, realising all her weapons had gone - all except her FRIEND, nestling inside her like a metal parasite. Good. That was all she would need.
SARAH was silent.
“What do you take?” said Dex.
“I need your help,” said SARAH.
“Help?” snarled Dex, “you’ve taken my fucking family, hunted me all over the bastard planet, and now every bastard’s accusing me of being an android and sending my mind twisting inside out. Why the hell would I help you? Amba here has been sent to kill you!”
“Earth’s Oblivion Government have been infiltrating the Theme Planet for over a year now. They have spies and soldiers everywhere. I assume they either want something, some technology, or intend to destroy the Theme Planet -and everybody who’s on it.”
“Why?” snapped Dex. “You obviously take something important from us. Go on, what do you feed on?”
“I feed on your negative energy,” said SARAH. “I absorb your fear, your hate and your horror,” she said. “It is my nourishment, it is why I created the Theme Planet. But it does your species no harm - if anything, by giving me these negative emotions, tourists leave the Theme Planet feeling purged; you go home happy and fulfilled, you go home at peace with yourself, with your fellow man, with the world. I think this is the problem with Oblivion; I am draining the dark energy and hate from humanity. I am giving you a slice of utopia and the Earth authorities do not want it.”
“Why would they object to that?” said Dexter, softening a little. He didn’t know if he believed SARAH; it sounded highly incredible to him, but then who was he to judge? He was simply a dumb, crude cop with a love of beer and his sexy wife.
“Because,” said SARAH, gently, “humanity is a damaged species. They are self-loathing and self-destructive, and the Oblivion Government believe in war. They believe in attack. More advances in weapons and science and medicine and genetic modification occurred during times of war than any other period in human history. For mankind to advance, it must be at war. For humanity to evolve, it must be through violence and hate. And I am destroying that; I am pacifying the raging beast. I am making Humanity soft. Oblivion have big plans. I predict Earth and its armies plan to take over the Quad-Gal. Earth intends to be Master of it all - to build a New Empire. The New Earth Galactic Empire!”
“And you’re weakening its soldiers?” said Amba.
“Yes. Many of them. I know there have been reports of many leaving the military. Why do you think we have so little crime here on Theme Planet? So few problems? Humans arrive full of bitterness and angst, anger and frustration, and I take it away from them.”
“Sounds too perfect,” said Dex, frowning. The surroundings were really irritating him now; the perfect pale white, the slow ascent (descent?), he could almost imagine fucking Glitter John Muzak piped in, tinkling and warbling like the worst of GlamRock Pock Rockers. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more his own hate started to build. It was a shame SARAH had taken his weapons whilst he was unconscious - zapped? - and it all smelled fishy, like a fishy fishfish dish, all felt wrong, and if Dex could get his hands on the right equipment he’d shut down this bitch for good...
“See?” said SARAH, gently.
“See what?” snarled Dex, spittle on his lips, eye flaring with violence.
“You’re building up to it. Building up to the kill. That’s why they sent you. Because of what you are. I can see it now. I have proof.”
“Proof of what?” snarled Dex.
“That you’re an android,” said SARAH. “That’s why they sent your kind; you’re the only ones who can infiltrate and murder on my world. If a normal human assassin is sent on a mission of destruction, they always - always - fail. They can no longer do it. No longer carry it out, because I remove their fear, I neutralise their hate. But you androids, especially the Anarchy Models, you are different. Harder. Tougher. Mentally, you are skewed from reality and normality, robbed of empathy; even ones like you, Dexter, who’ve been implanted with a family. To make you forget. To make you believe you were human... I’m sorry, and I know you don’t truly understand, and you don’t believe me, but I will show you how it is.”
“Show me,” growled Dex, and his temper was up, and his hate was bright and real, and it was all a big truckload of bollocks. He couldn’t be a fake human. He could not be a plastic model. How could he? He loved his children too much; and had too much empathy for his Fellow Man. For his whole fucking species...
“It will hurt,” said SARAH.
“Not as much as I’ll hurt you if you don’t prove it,” said Dex.
“I see your aggression is still here,” said SARAH, giving a small, regretful smile.
“You’ve been trying to kill me all over the fucking planet! What do you expect me to feel? Fucking joy at your fucking eloquent confession? Well, I think it’s a whole barrel of whiskyshit, I think you’re covering for something, I think you’re up to something; I think you have evil plans of your own, Mainframe.”
“Dexter,” said SARAH. “Those who tried to kill you, really tried to take you out - they were not my people. They were infiltrators from Oblivion. From Earth. And there will be more sent after you if you fail to destroy me... to destroy the Theme Planet. Because - both of you - that is your final, ultimate mission. To bring me down. To annihilate me. To wipe me from, ironically, the face of the planet by whatever means necessary.”
“And how would we do that?” asked Amba softly.
“You know. It’s built into both of you. Engineered. You just don’t know yet.”
“I still don’t believe you,�
� said Dex. “I want to see my family. I want to see them with my own eyes. Because I know you lie. I know all of you lie.” He gave a sideways glare at Amba, as well. It’s all unreal. A bad dream. A nightmare from the pit. None of this is happening and I’ll wake up, back in London, in our nice house with our nice groundcar. And Katrina will be there with a cup of fresh coffee, and the girls will be arguing over the colour of their scarves and gloves before heading out into the frosty, ice-rimed London City morning...
“You shall,” said SARAH, and smiled, and the floating disc slowed and came to halt. It drifted towards the white walls, which glowed softly and tried to instil peace in Dexter’s heart; but he was having none of it.
A doorway opened in the wall. Beyond lay a white, glowing corridor.
“They are down there,” said SARAH.
Dex walked across the platform and stepped off, into the glow. He walked forward, apprehensive, hateful, bitter, his mind spinning and his thoughts fractured. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, he thought.