“Was the fellow,” Craig replied, “and Paine’s dead.”
“Dear God,” Morgan whispered. “What is this?”
“Progress,” Aldous interjected.
Morgan peered at the strange figure for several moments, cocking his head to the side and stepping toward him, an expression of disbelief on his face. “Gibson? Is that you?”
Aldous smiled silently in return.
“Oh my God. What have you done to yourself?” Morgan asked as he stepped back in fear.
“Just trying out some of your Purist technology—walking a mile in a super soldier’s shoes. Not to worry. It’s all reversible.”
“You’re a lunatic,” Morgan whispered as he shook his head and continued to step back.
“Oh look...the kettle is black,” Aldous seethed through gritted teeth before pouncing on Morgan, using his remaining arm to grasp the mortal around the back of his neck. Morgan called out in pain as Aldous roughly hoisted him into the air and pointed his face in the direction of Craig. “Anything you’d like to say to the former President, Craig?”
Craig stared at the man for a moment in a state of near-bewilderment. He’d seen Morgan thousands of times on television screens and even gone into battle at his order, and yet he’d never met the man. Somehow, Morgan’s power had always been invisible—godlike—gripping everything in Craig’s life, yet it seemed as though he wasn’t really there—as though he wasn’t even human. Now, there he was, only two meters in front of Craig, helpless as a child—helpless as a human.
“Billions of people are dead because of the decisions you made,” Craig said in a low voice.
“Billions are alive because of them too!” Morgan shot back. “Please, please don’t trust this man!”
Craig’s eyes narrowed as he listened to the desperate pleas of the world’s former most powerful man.
“I know you think he’s good. I know you think he’s right, but he’s not. He’s the madman we’ve always feared. He’s the reason we did all of this! We were trying to keep him and men like him from building the tools to destroy our species!”
“You’re full of—”
“It’s not about power for me!” Morgan shouted. “It’s always been about the survival of our species! I’ve spent my life trying to protect us! Don’t trust this man! Gibson will kill us all! His reckless pursuit of immortality and god-building will be the end of humanity! Please! Help me!”
A moment passed.
“What do you say, Craig?” Aldous asked, his face deadly serious. “You alone have the power to stop me. Which world do you want? His or ours?”
Craig stood silent for a moment. Aldous was right. Craig had him at a disadvantage. He could neutralize his cybernetic prosthetics and summarily squash him like a bug. He could hand the world back to Morgan who could, in turn, utilize the A.I. to continue the world as it had been ever since the end of WWIII.
It wasn’t really a choice at all.
Craig nodded before turning his back and stepping away.
Morgan’s screams began almost immediately, followed soon after by the sound of Aldous’s hand spinning drill-like once again. Craig shut his eyes as the sound of the drill motor began to groan, struggling to generate the torque needed to spin inside Morgan’s body. The screams didn’t last long.
Craig turned back and watched Aldous exact his revenge for the death of Samantha. The expression Aldous wore seemed more like a mask; the muscles contorted to extremes Craig wouldn’t have imagined possible, to extremes that made the famous scientist appear deranged. As Aldous dropped Morgan’s body and huffed and puffed in a desperate attempt to gain control of his breathing, Craig slipped Paine’s ocular implant out of his pocket and regarded it one final time. He suddenly remembered words he’d once read somewhere: An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.
“I’ve had enough of this,” he said to the A.I. “Take me home.”
“As you wish,” the A.I. replied.
EPILOGUE 1
Sixty-Two Years Later...
Craig stood outside the giant doors at the A.I. Governing Council headquarters, marvelling at the vaulting ceilings and the pillars of light that streamed into the circular building. He’d never been to the headquarters before and felt out of place, like a country bumpkin in the big city. It was a big step for him: He’d been out of the loop for a long, long time, convalescing, in a sense, in Texas with Daniella. He’d watched from the sidelines as the world changed dramatically, and now he was ready to join back in.
He indicated his arrival with his mind’s eye, and the doors to Aldous Gibson’s office opened automatically, allowing Craig a view inside of the spectacular, sprawling room. “Wow,” he whispered as he crossed the chrome floor toward Aldous’s desk.
The chief of the governing council was already coming out from behind the desk with a smile on his face and his hand—his biological one—outstretched in greeting. “It’s been far too long, my friend.”
“Yeah,” Craig replied. “Last time I saw you, you looked a lot different.”
Aldous laughed and shook his head. “Yes. That was something, wasn’t it? It took days to grow my limbs back after that. The nans have come a long way since then. Please,” Aldous said, pointing to the chair, “have a seat.”
“Thanks,” Craig replied as he lowered himself into the luxurious chair while he watched Aldous slide back into his spot behind his desk.
“We should’ve had this meeting long ago,” Aldous noted.
Craig nodded. “Yeah. Well, it’s taken me a long time to be ready to reenter the world.”
“Yes. I saw you were in Texas. You married that doctor—”
“Daniella. Yes,” Craig replied, smiling.
“Say hello to her, will you? And thank her again for saving my life.”
“Will do. She sends her regards, by the way, as well as her thanks for getting me out of the house.”
Aldous laughed warmly again. “It’s my pleasure. When I saw your request for assignment, I took care of it personally. We’ve got a plum position to offer you.”
“Ah, I don’t know about that. I’m brand new. I don’t have much to offer in return.”
“Nonsense,” Aldous countered. “You’re exactly the man I need for this assignment. After all, you were the one who chose terraforming as your area of interest, and I need someone with your life experience to help guide the young genius who’s in charge of the project.”
“A genius? Guide?” Craig shook his head. “How am I supposed to guide a genius?”
“He’s a hot-head,” Aldous replied, sighing. “I both love him and hate him, Craig.”
“You’re not exactly selling it.”
Aldous looked up and smiled. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I should be. He is brilliant, Craig, on a scale we’ve never seen before. His brain is completely natural—a mutation no one engineered. He’s a savant without any of the handicaps that usually accompany such talents. He’s synesthetic—capable of profound mathematical, spacial, and linguistic thinking. I’ve seen him master a new language in days. He has all of Shakespeare memorized verbatim, right down to the punctuation marks. He knows all the constellations and the positions of the stars and where they should be at a given time of night at a given time of the year. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. In some ways, his intelligence outstrips even that of the A.I.’s mother program.”
“That’s amazing,” Craig replied, shaking his head.
Aldous nodded before adding with a shrug, “He and I have trouble getting along though. He wants to be unfettered—to work without limitations.”
“Sounds like another genius I know,” Craig noted.
Aldous grinned briefly. “Thank you, my friend, but his desire for freedom could one day develop into a serious concern. This is just the sort of fellow who could, without limits, independently stumble upon the secret of Planck technology. His mind is so creative. The A.I. has to keep him preoccupied in other, safer areas of research.” Aldous look
ed into Craig’s eyes, reading the thoughts that were so obviously running through his mind. “Ironic, I know. I’ve calmed down over the years. What I’d like you to do is help this young man see that immortality means the future is long. He needs to understand that he can afford to be cautious.”
“Whatever happened to the Planck technology? Have we had any visits from outside our universe?”
“No, though it’s almost a certainty that someone from another universe is using it to cross into pre-WWIII universes, where the technology to detect a transgression hasn’t yet been developed. The A.I. constantly monitors the solar system for any breaches of the Planck energy.
“And?”
“So far, so good.” Aldous leaned forward. “Craig, that technology should never have been developed. It was a mistake. I’m experienced enough to realize that now. I’m not sure I could say the same about James Keats.”
Craig’s eyes narrowed. “That’s this young man’s name?”
“Yes. I’ve arranged for you to meet him, as soon as we’re finished here.”
“I can’t wait. It sounds like a once-in-a-lifetime experience.”
Aldous nodded, his smile fading as his expression became pensive. He turned his chair slightly and regarded the spectacular view from his windows. The city of Seattle, rebuilt and vibrant, hummed in front of him. Post-humans flew over the cityscape, encapsulated in their green cocoons, guided by the A.I. to their destinations.
“This is a world we both fought hard for, Craig...and we lost a lot in the process.”
Craig shifted in his chair and nodded politely. He’d hoped the conversation wouldn’t turn to dark reminiscing. “Yes, we did.”
“Do you think it was worth it? Is the world we built good enough?”
Craig nodded. “Absolutely. It’s impressive. You deserve a lot of credit, Aldous.”
Aldous smiled broadly, Craig’s words seemingly soothing the burden the chief carried with him daily as the architect most responsible for their civilization as it now stood. It was somehow a relief for Craig to see that even great men had self-doubt.
“Thank you, my friend,” Aldous said. His expression shifted back to curiosity. “And what about the Purists? Do you think we’ve handled that problem correctly?”
“Gosh. I haven’t thought about them in years. I don’t think there is a correct way, unfortunately,” Craig replied. “Appropriately, yes. Giving them their own land where they can express their beliefs freely seems like the only possible solution.”
Aldous nodded, the satisfied smile returning. “Good. Good.”
An awkward silence ensued. “So, shall I head out to meet this James Keats fellow now?” Craig asked, attempting to break the uneasy pause.
“There’s one more thing I need to discuss with you,” Aldous announced. This time, it was his turn to shift uncomfortably in his chair. “Well, really I need to show you. I’ve done something—something I should have told you about long ago. But I need to know before I show you that I can count on your complete discretion.”
Craig suddenly felt extraordinarily uncomfortable. He didn’t like the idea of being taken into Aldous’s confidence. Many years had passed—happy years spent with a wonderful woman and years that had softened his resentment toward the chief. That didn’t mean that he wanted to be friends, however. “I-I’m not sure—”
“It concerns you,” Aldous added. “I think it’s important for you to see.”
Craig settled back into his chair and exhaled deeply. “Okay. You can count on me to be discrete. What’s on your mind?”
“I am,” Samantha Gibson answered from behind him.
Craig jumped out of his chair, turning toward the voice and the figure to whom it belonged. Samantha Gibson, appearing just as she had in Craig’s fading memories, stood only meters away, her hair catching the fading light of the sunset.
“Sam?”
“Yes, Craig,” Samantha replied.
Craig stood dumbfounded for several moments before finally stuttering his way to asking, “How?”
“She’s a clone, Craig,” Aldous replied, “a partial resurrection.”
“Partial resurrection? What the hell is that?”
“This is not the woman you and I knew, Craig,” Aldous explained, standing and walking out from behind his desk. “Tragically, the Sam you and I knew was killed by Colonel Paine sixty-two years ago.” He crossed in front of Craig, continuing to talk as he joined the faux Samantha at her side. “However, I just couldn’t let her go.”
“So you cloned her? How can this possibly be legal?”
Aldous shrugged. “There are benefits to being the chief.”
Craig was nearly flabbergasted for a moment before finally settling on a line of intelligible questions. “If she’s a clone and not the woman I was married to, then why bother telling me? Why dredge all this up? Do you know how painful this is? How painful those memories are?”
“I understand, Craig.”
“Do you?”
“I do. I loved her too.”
“Then why?”
“As I said, she’s a partial resurrection, something more than just a clone. With the A.I.’s help, we were able to insert memories—memories that had been taken from me, from others who knew Sam, and even from you.”
“Me?” Craig reacted, stunned.
“Yes. When the A.I. detached from your brain, it retained a picture—a sort of map of the architecture of your brain at that time. When we cloned Samantha, we included those memories.”
“What gave you that right?” Craig seethed.
“I’m sorry, Craig. I just couldn’t bear to lose her. Anything that would make my resurrected Sam more like Sam was like gold to me. We’ve been together over half a century, and I have never regretted it, not for a moment.”
“Please don’t be angry, Craig,” Samantha spoke.
“Don’t...” Craig responded, shutting his eyes and holding his hand up. He let his shoulders relax and concentrated on his breathing. It had been a long time since anything had upset him so severely. He reminded himself of the hard-won experience he’d attained since.
“I thought...” Aldous began, before restarting, “I think it will be good for you if you speak with her alone. I know that what happened between you has always haunted you. I want to give you the opportunity to clear the air. I’ll leave you to speak. When you’re finished, Craig, the coordinates of your meeting place with James Keats will be uploaded to your mind’s eye.” He turned to leave the room but stopped for a moment and added, “It really was good to see you again, old friend.”
Craig blinked as the doors closed. He turned to Samantha, but he couldn’t open his mouth.
“It’s good for me to see you also,” Samantha said, a slight smile on her lips.
“I-I don’t know what to say to you.”
“I understand,” Samantha replied. She stood still, patiently waiting for Craig to absorb the reality of the situation, appearing like a vision from a dream, bathed in the fading light.
“Why?” Craig finally asked. “Why did you—”
“Leave you? Marry Aldous?”
“Yes.”
“Craig, I can’t speak definitively for your former wife—my memories from her life are a patchwork. But I do know she loved you. She really did. I can feel it now, even as I stand here with you.”
Craig’s throat seemed to close momentarily, but the nans immediately went to work, calming him.
“We can love different people in our lifetimes. Had you not died, I have no doubt Samantha would’ve remained loyal to you. When you died, however, she bonded with another compatible mate. She loved him, just as I love him now. Our bond is extraordinary, Craig. Not even death could break it.”
An overwhelming compulsion to leave the room suddenly gripped Craig. His eyes fell from hers to the chrome floor, where his reflection stared back at him, though blurred by the imperfections of the surface. “I am fortune’s fool,” he whispered before turning to leave
, not daring to look back at the woman who, it seemed, would haunt him forever.
EPILOGUE 2
“Hey there, Old-timer.”
Craig nearly stopped in his tracks as he stepped into the Martian terraforming control room and immediately heard the unexpected greeting from a man whose back was turned. “Excuse me?”
The young man, smooth-faced and still with the slight build of youth, turned with a warm, confident smile painted across his lips. “You are Craig Emilson, aren’t you? Ninety-four years old—not counting the fourteen years you spent in suspended animation, which would make you—”
“Don’t say it,” Craig winced. “Let’s just stick with ninety-four. The years I spent as a Popsicle don’t count.”
The young man laughed in return. “Fair enough, but you’re still the senior member of our team here, so it’s nice to meet you...Old-timer.” He crossed to the much taller man and extended his hand in a friendly, enthusiastic greeting. “My name is James Keats.”
“I figured,” Craig replied, happily shaking the younger man’s hand in return. “You’re not what I was expecting.”
“Why’s that? Too young?”
“No, they told me your age. Twenty, right?”
“Yep.”
“No, it’s not your age. It’s just—”
“Ah,” James nodded, smiling as he suddenly understood, “Told you I was a hot-head, did he?”
Craig nodded. “Pretty much.”
“Well, I think he’s an old stick in the mud and way too set in his ways,” James replied, “but hey, he did get me this gig, and there’s no better gig I could have.”
“No?”
“No,” James replied, turning to the giant windows out of which they observed the Martian landscape as it appeared, three-quarters of the way through the terraforming project. The clouds, though sparse, were getting thicker every day, and small sprouts of green were appearing on what was previously a desert landscape. “Building worlds—making bridges for humanity...what could have more meaning?”
Post-Human Series Books 1-4 Page 22