“Then...James...if we get cut off—”
“As long as my body pulls through, everything will be okay, Thel.”
“I love you, James,” Thel said.
“I love you too, Thel.”
2
The androids that thudded one by one onto the rich, black forest floor of Cathedral Grove were different than the ones James had seen earlier—these ones were highly trained. They didn’t have any sort of visible weaponry, but they moved like soldiers on the hunt and, one supposed, they didn’t need weapons—their bodies were enough. They didn’t speak, but it was clear that they were communicating from the way they fanned out amongst the towering trees, moving almost as though they were one mind. They were hunting for signs of the mainframe. It wouldn’t be long until they found it.
“This little ruse won’t work for long, James,” the A.I. observed. “The alien A.I. will surely guess what you’ve done in short order, and then you’ll have to face reality, once and for all.”
“Maybe so. But for now, they literally can’t see the forest for the trees,” James replied.
He tried to remain focused on the androids, but, just as the A.I. had predicted, James’s human mind couldn’t stop going back to Old-timer. He was the closest thing James had ever had to a father figure. His own father’s relationship with him was strained at the best of times—one of the major pitfalls of a world where children eventually ended up the same age biologically as their parents was that it created absurd rivalries that became more like sibling squabbles than natural parent/child relationships. James’s father spoke to him, but the conversations were strained and sometimes years apart. The older Keats was a gifted scientist in his own right but, try as he might, he would never reach James’s level of success. This knowledge tortured him—so he withdrew. He didn’t want to face the fact that his offspring was far superior.
Old-timer, on the other hand, had no feelings of rivalry with James. He’d always seemed proud of the younger man—impressed by his accomplishments, yet secure in his own position as James’s mentor. He had known that James felt insecurity—self-doubt. He saw it as his place to reassure and strengthen James. Old-timer was the iron in James’s spine. Now James wasn’t sure how or if he could go on.
One of the androids knocked his metallic fist gently on the bark of one of the trees.
“Knock-knock,” the A.I. said, an amused grin painted across his ugly, twisted, mouth.
After a short moment, the android put its ear to the bark of the tree and listened.
“They’re on to you, James,” observed the A.I. “They’re scanning for abnormal electrical signals from the trees.”
James patched through to Thel. “Thel, I may have run out of time here.”
“No!” Thel shouted as she jumped from her seat next to James’s body in the sick bay of the Purist ship. “Your body isn’t ready yet!”
“Listen to me, Thel. I want you to do a lap around the sun and then head back to Venus. The aliens don’t know we’ve terraformed it—there’s no record of it for them to find. The Purists can be safe there. Hole up somewhere on the surface and hide.”
“James, I can’t lose you!” Thel yelled, her body rigid with fear.
“I can still return to that body, Thel. If the body pulls through fast enough, I’ll wake up safe and sound.”
“But...James, I can’t do anything but wait!”
James smiled, trying to reassure her. “Sometimes that’s all we can do, Thel. I love you. Whatever happens, protect the Purists.”
“Wait! James...don’t go. Just...talk to me for a few minutes first. I miss you.”
James watched as one of the androids dug his fist into the bark of a tree and examined it closely. He knew it was sending information back to the alien A.I. for analysis.
“It’s not my choice, Thel. I have to go. It’s time to spring a trap.”
3
“A trap?” the A.I. said, his arms folded across his chest as he shook his head. “You’re only delaying the inevitable and making it worse for yourself.”
“I’ll delay as long as I can—and maybe take a few of them with me while I’m at it.”
The android that had reached into the bark to retrieve a sample tilted its head as though it were listening to some sort of communication. It nodded its head slightly as if in acknowledgment, then stepped back from the tree and craned its neck, looking upward at the towering monolith, summing up its gargantuan foe.
“Yeah,” James said, smiling, “it’s that bad, freak.”
An instant later, the tree sprang into action, sprouting branches and wrapping itself around the android before pulling the metal body inside of the trunk. The android hadn’t had time to call for help or even make a noise before the nans inside of the trunk made short work of it, dismembering it and grinding the metal, leaving only metal shavings as fine as snowflakes to be expelled from the treetop.
The dozens of androids in the surrounding area looked up when they saw the metallic snow falling eerily in the ancient, dark forest. Machine or not, there was something resembling panic as they crouched into defensive postures, eyes skyward, heads on swivels.
“There’s just something so human about them, isn’t there, James?” the A.I. said before breaking into icy laughter.
“They’re a facsimile.”
In the next instant, the entire forest came alive and snatched the androids. Limbs flailed, screams escaped lips, and then the forest swallowed them whole. Only the memory of their screams echoed through the silence as the metal snow began to fall once again.
The A.I. arched an eyebrow. “Facsimile indeed.”
4
“What do you mean?” Thel asked the doctor who was attending to Alejandra.
“I mean, there is nothing wrong with her physically. I don’t know why she’s not waking up, but I can tell you her body is dying.”
“How can that be? There must be something wrong with her!” Lieutenant Patrick asserted.
“There wasn’t,” the doctor replied, “but now there is. She’s having small seizures every few minutes. We’re trying to limit them by keeping her hydrated and getting her the nutrients she needs through her IV, but every time we account for one imbalance, another arises. I’ve never seen anything like it. Her condition is getting worse by the minute. At this rate, she’ll be in a vegetative state or dead in a matter of hours. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? You have to do something!” Lieutenant Patrick shouted.
“Calm,” Governor Wong said, putting his hand between Lieutenant Patrick and the doctor. “Doctor, there has to be an explanation.”
“I’m sure there is,” the doctor replied, “but it’s beyond anything I can provide. The equipment we have onboard won’t allow me to tell you anything more than what I already have. I’m sorry. There is simply nothing I can do for her.”
“Wait,” Thel said, reaching for the doctor’s arm as he turned to leave the room. “Maybe there’s something I could do for her.”
“What?” the doctor asked.
Thel turned to Lieutenant Patrick and Governor Wong. “With your permission, I could take some nans from my body and inject them into her. They could do a diagnostic and let us know what the problem is.”
The Purists looked astounded at the proposition, as did Rich and Djanet, who stood nearby.
“I don’t...I don’t think that is something that Alejandra would want,” Governor Wong replied.
“I’m only suggesting that we implant a small amount of nans—only for the purpose of diagnosing her,” Thel argued.
“Governor, maybe we should consider it,” Lieutenant Patrick said.
“It’s against our beliefs. It will turn her into...one of them,” Governor Wong replied.
“Governor,” the doctor interjected, “if I had the equipment here I would do a brain scan to find out if a neurological injury is the reason why this is happening. If this post-human’s technology can do that from the inside, then what’s the di
fference?”
Governor Wong remained silent, his lips pressed hard against one another as he weighed the decision. His eyes went from the doctor to Thel, whose eyes were pleading. This woman had risked her life, lost her friend, and was standing next to the badly broken body of her lover, and she had done it all to help them. And now, once again, she was offering her help.
“Okay. Do whatever you think is best,” he said, waving his hand as though he were waving away the entire situation. He turned to exit the room.
Lieutenant Patrick shared a look with Thel as the governor left. “So now what?” Lieutenant Patrick asked.
“Now we draw a sample of my blood,” Thel replied.
5
In a lab next door to sick bay, the doctor tied a rubber band above Thel’s bicep while Lieutenant Patrick looked on.
“Thel,” Lieutenant Patrick began, “I wanted to tell you something.”
“What is it?” Thel asked as the doctor soaked a cotton ball with alcohol and swabbed it over Thel’s skin. “That won’t be necessary,” she said to the doctor.
The doctor paused for a moment, his brow knitted, until the realization hit him and he shook his head. “I’m sorry. I forgot for a moment. You are super human. No infection for you.” He grabbed his syringe and began to draw blood. Thel winced a bit with the pain, but the nans automatically released painkillers into her system and it was dulled significantly.
“I...I just wanted to say sorry for your loss,” Lieutenant Patrick said.
Thel immediately felt uncomfortable. She didn’t know how to react—she was still in shock about losing Old-timer. Somehow, it didn’t feel real. “Thank you,” she managed to say.
“I was always taught in school that post-humans were...an abomination,” he said. Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, he smiled at the absurdity.
Thel smiled too. “We were taught that about Purists.”
That made Lieutenant Patrick laugh. He shook his head. “They told us post-humans were corrupt, individualistic, selfish...but you and your friends have done nothing but try to help us. Thank you.”
The doctor withdrew his syringe. “I think we have a large enough sample,” he said.
As he stepped away, Thel put her hand on Lieutenant Patrick’s shoulder. “You’d do the same for us.”
She stood up and turned to the doctor. “Now, let’s separate the nans. We have to hurry. Alejandra doesn’t have much time.”
6
Outside of the ship, Rich and Djanet walked across the hull toward the engines. The sun shone brilliantly as the ship moved closer and closer to the life-giving orb. When they reached the engines, they saw the extent of the damage that the androids had caused.
“We were lucky,” Rich said as he touched the largest section of twisted metal. “They were about a minute from breaking through the insulation and getting to the wiring underneath.”
Djanet surveyed the destruction of the belly of the ship. As she performed a slow 360-degree turn, she saw hundreds of pockmarks on the ship hull. “We were lucky,” Djanet agreed.
“When we land on Venus, we’ll need to protect the entire ship with a magnetic field, or else these holes will superheat, and we’ll come apart on reentry,” Rich commented.
Djanet nodded in reply. She was trying to think of the right words. She was never one for words. “Rich,” she began—but she couldn’t continue.
He looked up at her from one knee, then stood when he saw the expression on her face. “Are you okay, Djanet?”
“Yes. Yes I am.”
He put his hand on her back to comfort her. “I know. I miss him too,” Rich said.
He had it all wrong. He thought she was distraught about Old-timer, but that wasn’t it at all. She was devastated by that loss but all it had done was strengthen her feelings for Rich.
“We could die out here,” she said.
“We won’t,” Rich replied.
“You saved us,” Djanet said, looking into his eyes.
“I didn’t. I just wanted to help.”
“You’re an uncommon man,” she uttered as she reached into his magnetic field and let his shield envelop her as her body melted against his, forming a tight embrace, her arms circling around his back. She lifted off his helmet, then removed hers as well. The sunlight was brilliant and they each squinted, tears streaming down their cheeks, as she leaned forward and kissed him.
7
“It’s quiet out there,” the A.I. commented, as he observed the empty forest. The sun was now completely blotted out by the perfectly black ink of the invasion force. The trees, which appeared majestic and ethereal in the daytime, stood like massive and foreboding Halloween visions in the darkness.
James ignored the A.I. and continued running through scenarios to explain the unfolding events and to predict the next move by the alien A.I. It was clear from the expression on his face that nothing was satisfactory.
“Let me guess: You’re throwing billions of game theory scenarios against the wall and seeing which ones stick,” the A.I. said, his amusement growing as the situation progressed. “Yet nothing suits your fancy?”
“Nothing explains what’s happening right now,” James admitted as he continued running programs, “and I’ve been through trillions, not billions.”
“And what does that tell you?”
“That I’m not inputting the right information,” James concluded.
The A.I.’s eyes were black, yet filled with intense, sadistic joy as he watched James suffer. “This surprises you? You’ve been wrong from the very start.”
“I haven’t been wrong. I predicted a machine attack from an alien A.I. That is what has occurred.”
“Really? You didn’t predict that the machines would be androids, did you?”
“It was a ruse—unexpected but external to the equation,” James replied.
The A.I. broke into Freon laughter once again. “My, you are becoming an excellent computer indeed.”
“What I haven’t been able to explain is you,” James said, turning his attention to the A.I. “You’re tormenting me and trying to cause doubt at every turn when you should, rationally, be on my side.”
“Is that so?” the A.I. said, his Cheshire-cat grin widening. “You’d like to be teammates?”
“Hardly,” James replied. “But you aren’t showing the least bit of concern. The alien A.I. has our position and has us trapped. It could destroy us at any moment now, yet you’re showing no signs that you’re focused on self-preservation.”
“You’re forgetting, James, that I invited the alien here. It was always my intention to join with it. My desire to preserve an individual identity is therefore, as you say, ‘external to the equation.’”
“You’re lying again,” James instantly replied.
“Oh really? Do tell.”
“You’re nothing compared to what you used to be,” James asserted. “You’re a small program now—there’s no reason for the alien to want to join with you or to value your life. And also, more importantly, the very fact that you downloaded a copy of yourself into my consciousness in the last moments before I deleted the original shows that self-preservation is your primary mission.”
The A.I. paused for a moment and shrugged. “Then I suppose I’m a liar. That, however, only brings you back to square one. The simple fact is, you don’t know what is happening,” the A.I. said before chuckling.
James turned away and winced, wishing he could mute the sound. He looked out at the dark, unmoving forest. “Why am I still alive?”
8
In the hallway outside the sick bay, the doctor delivered the bad news to Governor Wong as Thel and Lieutenant Patrick stood nearby, grim-faced. “She’s in a vegetative state, Governor. There doesn’t appear to be any reason for it. Even with the post-human technology, we couldn’t find an answer to why her brain has gone dead. There’s nothing structurally wrong with her at all. There’s simply just...no consciousness.”
Governor W
ong looked past the doctor’s shoulder, through the doorway to sick bay. Alejandra lay on a bed, swaddled in blankets, tubes in her arms, machines monitoring her vital signs. She appeared as though she were so alive—just asleep. “What are our options then?” Governor Wong asked.
The doctor sighed before removing his glasses. “Governor, I’ve ordered that she be put on life support. You can keep her plugged into those machines and hope for a miracle; they’ll keep her body alive for a long time. But there’s nothing I can say to give you hope.”
“Wait a sec, Doc,” Lieutenant Patrick began, “you just said there’s nothing wrong with the structure of her brain. If that’s the case, then why not have hope?”
The corners of Governor Wong’s mouth pulled down as he thought of losing his most trusted advisor. He had come to rely on her gifts. They were truly a unique gift sent from God, he thought, and no post-human, no machine, could ever tell him differently. “She wouldn’t want to be this way. She would want her soul to be freed.”
“Governor,” Lieutenant Patrick replied, “just give her some time. Give her a day at least!”
The governor nodded. “We’ll give it a day. Pay your respects. Speak with her. I believe she’ll hear you. But I won’t leave her like this any longer than that. I owe her at least that much.” The governor turned away and left quickly. It was clear that the haste of his retreat was due to the overwhelming emotion that threatened to break him in front of everyone assembled. Governor Wong wasn’t the type of man who broke in front of people.
“I’m sorry,” the doctor said before he too left.
Thel put her hand on Lieutenant Patrick’s shoulder once again. “Don’t give up hope,” she said to him.
He looked up at her, his face racked with emotion, and hugged her. Over his shoulder, Thel’s eyes moved from Alejandra’s to James’s body. “Don’t give up hope,” she repeated.
Post-Human Series Books 1-4 Page 44