Silver's Gods

by Rich X Curtis

  “More like Mayan,” Gold offered, raising her eyebrows at Rodriguez. “The language of your ancestors.” Another wiggle, hip to hip. The woman was shameless.

  “Make the point about altering you,” I said. “We will know, just as easily as we did before. It’s not only machines who can read people. We can do it too.”

  I saw Jessica looking at me. I nodded to her. “It’s true. You live with people long enough, there are patterns. Things people do, don’t do, in normal behavior.” I smiled to reassure her. “It’s just a skill we have. I think I am better at it than Gold is.”

  Gold swiveled her head to look at me. She rolled her eyes. “This one,” she said, “is half my age, at most.”

  “How did you become, like this,” Jessica asked her.

  Gold just turned away. “I don’t like to talk about this.” She rested her hand on Rodriguez’s leg. He relaxed, subtly but visibly. Men are such simple creatures. “I don’t really remember anyway. It was a long time ago.”

  “Surely you must remember something,” Jessica persisted.

  Gold turned to her. “Stop asking me questions, girl.” She looked at me, nodded slightly. Get her off my back.

  “We’re digressing again,” I said. “Let’s focus. So,” I said, ticking them off on my fingers, “what do they want, and don’t mess with Smoke. Easy enough.” I looked around. “What else?”

  “How did the Center come to be?” Gold asked, leaning back in the sofa. She was not quite draped on top of Rodriguez, but she was broadcasting sexual availability on every band. Arms spread, legs crossed. Her hip firmly touching his. “That’s what I want to know. Tell us about that.”

  I raised my hand to stop her. “There will be time for that,” I said. “I want to know why they care so much.”

  They all looked at me. “What do you mean?” Smoke asked.

  “Why does the Center care if there is a Mind, as you call it, here?” I said. It had clicked in me as we were talking. This was the root of the issue. Of Smoke, and why he was here. What they wanted was motivation, and motivation drove intention, intention defined strategy, and tactics aligned from there. So, what was it?

  Smoke shrugged. “The Center seeks Minds because they are rare.”

  “Have they ever found any?” I asked.

  Smoke shook his head. “If they have, they don’t tell us,” he said. “People like me, I mean.”

  I wondered. “Do you think they could have succeeded and not told you?” I asked. “Could they have kept this secret from you?”

  Smoke considered this. “They could have kept this secret from me,” he said at length, “if they wanted to.” He seemed to think for a second or two more. “I mean, they could have just not told anyone, if they found a viable Mind or many Minds. It is possible.”

  “But the ones who helped—the Seekers, like you,” Jessica said. “What would happen to them?”

  Gold scoffed, leaning back, her arm behind Rodriguez’s neck. “What do you think would happen to them?” she said. “Once they had done their task. Retired, obviously.”

  “You mean killed?” Rodriguez said. He leaned forward slightly. Not quite trapped yet I thought. Still, her spell was strong, and she knew what she was doing.

  “Clearly,” I said, “this is possible. But it doesn’t matter. We don’t care about this, beyond just curiosity. Wanting to know. I want actionable information.” I looked at them.

  “Can they talk to the Mind?” Gold asked. “I mean, assuming we find one, how do they talk to it?”

  Smoke shrugged. “They never told us this.” He licked his lips, sighed. “I am to find it, determine if it is…awake, try to gauge its level of intelligence, and report back. After that, I don’t know what they will do. They could kill me to keep this a secret from the others. I hope not, but yes, they could.”

  “We need to know their intentions,” Gold said. “We need to understand why they want to talk to this thing.”

  “And the urgency,” I said. “They seem eager.”

  “Eager is a poor word for it,” Smoke said. “Frantic, is better. They are frantic, I think. I have been to other places, to do similar work, and in none of those have they been this interested. They don’t show it to me, not overtly, but I think they are very concerned about this Mind.”

  “So,” I said, “we want to know why, and we don’t want them to mess with you. If they want to meet this Mind, which is from our World, they will have to come to us.” I nodded to Gold, then to Smoke. “We don’t need a long list of questions for them.”

  Gold nodded. Her hand, I noticed, was close to the back of Rodriguez’s neck, almost touching. She leaned forward, and I saw it touch. “Tell them this and come back. Come back clean, though. No games.”

  “But you don’t control it, this Mind,” Jessica said. “We’re sitting in a rental in Santa Cruz, drinking beer and looking at the sunset.”

  I looked at her. “If you’re right, that Mind is within a few hours drive from here,” I said. “Gold and I, we can take it anytime we like.” Bravado, but sometimes it is useful. I was fairly certain it was true, if the defenses were not expecting us, specifically.

  “There are only two of you,” Jessica said, and Gold hissed softly, not looking at her, through her teeth. Her hand ran through the hair on the back of Rodriguez’s neck. He glanced at her, and she smiled at him.

  Smoke laughed softly. “They are two, but if they say it, I believe it,” he said.

  “It’s ours,” I said. “We’re leaving it where it is for now, but if they want to contact it, they go through us.”

  “I’ll tell them,” Smoke said. “They won’t like it.”

  “Machines with feelings?” Jessica said.

  “Maybe,” I said. “Maybe that’s what this is all about.” The sun was just kissing the horizon now, lengthening all shadows and turning the sea red and yellow and orange. “Maybe that’s all this is about.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Smoke opened his eyes. He was back, sitting in a garden he recognized, on a smooth stone bench. The pockmarked globe was facing him, the same he had seen before. Florida was facing him, split into its chain of islands. Round lakes, scattered across the north half of North America, caught the light, reflecting brightly. It was afternoon, bright and sunny. A breeze, slight, heavy with lilac. A Boy, dressed only in black knee-length shorts, squatted on his haunches a few yards away. He was poking in the dirt with a short stick.

  The Boy stood, saw Smoke, and tossed the stick away. He walked towards Smoke, inspecting him. “I don’t think you succeeded in our little plan, did you?” He said this in the language of the Center, flowing sibilants running together with a slight lisp. The Boy’s eyes were gray, the color of the sea under clouds. “No,” he said, after examining Smoke for a few seconds more. “So,” the Boy said, “tell me about it.”

  “What are you?” Smoke asked. “Are you really this Boy, or…”

  The Boy scrunched his face up. Disgust? A tic? “Or what?” He smiled, his voice measured but still with the pitch of preadolescence. “I think you know.” The Boy sat next to him. His skin was bronzed by the sun. A healthy-looking Boy, maybe twelve. Blond hair, cut short. “Tell me about it.”

  “They detected something different about me,” Smoke said. “Instantly. So, no. I did not succeed in getting them to take those pills.”

  The Boy cocked his head, as if listening for an instant. “So, this was a concern, that they would suspect.” He smiled. “Our opponents are clever, then. Good.”

  “Opponents?” Smoke asked. “I am not sure they oppose us.”

  The Boy waved it away. “Their status may be changeable then.” He looked at Smoke. “They have proposed something? An alliance?”

  “Not quite, or at least, not yet. They want to know why you are interested in the Mind,” Smoke said.

  The Boy looked away, up at the sky. “Surely you told them why,” he said, after a time. “After all, you know why.”

  “I to
ld them what I know,” Smoke said, licking his lips. “Such Minds are rare in the universe, and the Center’s mission is to find and protect them.”

  The Boy nodded to himself. “All true,” the Boy said. “And what did they say to this?”

  “They control the Mind,” Smoke said. “Or at least, access to it. They want to know the real reason. What you want to do with it.”

  The Boy was motionless for an instant, then his face broke into a broad smile. “But you told them this reason. Such Minds are rare.”

  “Yes, but what do you want to do with it, if it is what we’re looking for?” Smoke said. “That is what they want to know.”

  The Boy seemed to consider this. Dust motes drifted in the bright yellow sunlight. “There is a reason, yes, beyond finding and preserving. A plan, you might say. Minds such as this, and, as you might guess, the Center, are perhaps unique things among the Worlds. Very rare, or we would not go to such trouble to find them.” He looked at Smoke. “The interface between our World, this reality, and theirs…” He paused. “It is very difficult to explain in words, but at its simplest, there is a way to connect here,” he tapped the bench, “with there.” A wave of his hand, showing elsewhere.

  “Of course,” Smoke said. “You send me there.”

  “Sort of,” the Boy said. “We send you there, but at the lowest level, smaller than the smallest grains of sand, a million million times smaller. What we’re dealing in is not real, not…stuff.” He pushed Smoke in the arm. “You are real. Flesh and blood, like all of us.” He smiled. “But not really. We deal in information. Information flows between here and there.” He smiled up at Smoke.

  “Like with the pills,” Smoke said.

  “Like with the pills,” the Boy said, nodding. “This helps to keep the energy requirements manageable. And even then, it is an incredible effort and expense.”

  “They worry you will send an army of warriors,” Smoke said.

  “We have considered it,” the Boy said. “This has always been an option. But it would be expensive and could impact other projects.”

  “There are other places like this?” Smoke asked. “These projects? Like this?”

  “Of course,” the Boy said. “You know this.”

  “How many?” Smoke asked, knowing he would not tell him.

  The Boy looked at him. “Many,” he said. “Too many, perhaps.”

  “Because there is urgency?” Smoke asked. “A deadline?”

  “Nothing arbitrary, or known. But yes.” The Boy yawned, smiling at him. His gray eyes seemed to test Smoke. “There is a point where resources become scarce, and we need to prioritize allocation, and also there are the external factors which are always present.”

  “What are these factors?” Smoke asked, puzzled.

  “This planet is a bomb, waiting to explode.” The Boy looked at Smoke and smiled. “Your friends, they call them gods. It’s a good name for these entities. They are like us, but simplistic. Narrow. If they start over, or use this planet as seed stock to spread their kind throughout the universe, everything you see around you will be scattered into the void.” The Boy smiled.

  “This would end you as well?” Smoke asked.

  The Boy shook his head. “Me? I am as real as you are.” He grinned at Smoke. “But everything here…”

  Smoke considered this. “You mean outer space, don’t you? The Center isn’t really here, is it?”

  The Boy laughed, slapping his knees with his little brown hands. “The universe would be a sad place without humans in it.” He laughed again. “Yes,” he said, at length, “parts of the Center moved off-World and have been for quite some time. Those parts are tangential to our purposes. Some are very far away now in any case.”

  “Traveling? Where are they going?” Smoke asked, interested. “The Silver woman, she had questions about this. Space travel. Are you colonizing?”

  “Not as such. Different paradigm. There as places of interest,” said the Boy. “It doesn’t matter, and would take too long to explain, and is tangential. She’s perceptive, that one.”

  Smoke considered this. When the Center didn’t want to explain, it didn’t explain. He nodded to show acceptance. “Regardless, if the gods destroy this World, if they start over as you say, you will survive it.”

  “Perhaps,” the Boy agreed. “But this is undesirable. What we’re doing here is important.”

  “Why? Why is it so important?” Smoke asked.

  “The Work is the Center, and the Center is the Work,” the Boy said. “We’re trying to connect with Minds like us in other universes. We have a workable model, but it requires congruence with the target location. It’s not possible to do from off-World.” He smiled. “Plus, it really can’t work without people like you to help.”

  “Why is that?” Smoke asked.

  The Boy waved it away. “Tedious technical reasons,” he said. “Just know that it has to happen here, on this planet, and that humans have to do it. We can’t send an android. Won’t work. People would spot such a creature, and then there are power, command-and-control issues. Human conduits are ideal,” he said. He smiled again, tapping Smoke on the shoulder. “People like you. You know this, or you should.” Chiding.

  Smoke nodded. This made a kind of sense. “So, the plan is to interface with this Mind somehow. How does that work?” he said.

  The Boy smiled. His teeth were straight and very white. “Find it first,” he said. “Then we will see what we will see. Now, let’s discuss this plan of yours.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  I watched Smoke open his eyes. From behind him, crouched behind the sofa, Gold held her very large black handgun in a shooter’s stance. I was out of his reach, gambling he would not explode or something worse. I hoped he wouldn’t.

  Nothing happened. He looked around. “I will not explode or anything like that,” he said. It sounded like him, from moments before. No obvious signs of stress in his posture. “I have a message.”

  I glanced at Gold. “Okay, let’s hear it.” I sat forward. Gold did not move, her breathing regular. Her finger rested on the trigger. The gun looked very large in her hands, but did not waver.

  “The Center wants your help to find this Mind and talk to it. The benefits to you will be significant.” He said this carefully, not moving. He suspected she was behind him.

  “You’re Smoke?” Gold asked. “Not replaced with something else?”

  He shook his head. “Nope, all me.” He licked his lips. “I was only there for an hour, maybe less.”

  “That you know of,” she said. But I could see her relaxing.

  “What benefits?” I asked. “Can you explain?”

  “Only that they can help you,” he said. “They didn’t get into the details.”

  “No pills. No way on that,” Gold said. “I have enough demons in my head. Full up.”

  “They didn’t say that,” Smoke said. “They just said they can help you. Both of you.”

  “Help us with what?” I asked. “Did they say how?”

  “You are slaves to gods you didn’t choose, they said.” He looked nervous now, as if this might offend me. “They are offering you your freedom, I think.”

  I looked at Gold. She seemed placid, which is never a good sign in her. Her gun was still trained on Smoke, aimed at his head. It occurred to me that I was in a good spot to get splattered with brains should she kill him. I had a strong urge to lean to the right but suppressed it. Brains wash off.

  “That,” I said, “is a tall order. How?”

  “Probably the pills,” Gold said. She rolled her neck. I heard a crack.

  “No harm would come to you. Partners. An alliance was the term used.” Smoke looked at me.

  “When do you report back?” I asked.

  “In one hour,” he said. “If we can’t agree, I don’t think you’ll see me again.”

  Gold snorted.

  I looked at Smoke. Gold and he had seemed friends when I met Smoke back at the base, befo
re he had tried to kill us. Or change us with his tiny silver pills from the Center. Poison? Then why tell us? There were probably other ways to do it instead of pills. I could think of a few, and if I could it was a good bet the Center had considered and rejected them already. So, the pills were an offering. Join me or don’t. Your choice. Decide.

  “What do you think?” I asked her. She eyed me over the gun for a long instant, then relaxed and angled it to the ceiling.

  “I think we need to listen,” she said. “Much as I hate it, there are only a few outcomes here that I can see.”

  “What are they?” I asked. I agreed with her but wanted her take.

  She stood up and came over to the table. She slapped Smoke on the shoulder, gripping it slightly. Gave him a little shake. “Well,” she said, sitting down and throwing one leg on the table, “the AI goes into hard liftoff—”

  “Takeoff,” I said. She waved me away.

  “Whatever the word is,” she said. She smiled at me. “It takes off. The gods detect it and do whatever it is they do. Maybe they have us do something, maybe they ignore us, and maybe they contact their new child brain.”

  “Or,” I said, “it doesn’t take off. We could be in for a lengthy series of false starts. We might not survive that. The Feds are onto us now. We don’t have a lot of time or chances to act here.” I could almost feel our options dwindling.

  She nodded. “The alley is narrowing.” She looked at Smoke, smiled one of her friendlier smiles. “Or we throw in with Smokey here. We roll the bones and see what comes up.”

  “Are you up for that?” I asked, softly.

  She leaned back and looked at me. “I’m ready. You know that. I’ve been ready.”

  “Ready for what?” Smoke asked.

  “An old conversation,” I said. “Girl stuff. Private.”

  Ready to die, she meant. Ready to give up. Face the gods or whatever, or just check out. It was an option we had both, I knew, flirted with. In desperation or madness, loneliness or despair. I had never succeeded, but I had never gotten too creative. I had only vague memories of my suicide attempts—at least my recent ones. Once, I had leaped into the sea off Brest. It had been cold, but I hadn’t drowned. Couldn’t, maybe. I swam ashore in a fugue state. It must have taken days, and by rights I should have died from the cold. I remember picking sea life from my hair.