by Alec Birri
New flesh crept its way across Faruk’s face and hands. It was difficult not to marvel at the process. The pace and detail produced were incredible. He wondered how much of the newly-formed veins, tendons and wrinkles were a hallucination. He looked at his cabin. It was undergoing a similar process of self-repair. Maybe it was all a dream – a nightmare as real as the last one.
Faruk held up one of his biosynthetic hands. ‘What about us? What about machines? What’s to become of those that can experience every human emotion but can never be part of the race itself?’
‘Machines?’ Hassan took hold of Faruk’s hand and inspected it. ‘Are you sure?’
Faruk’s repairs were approaching completion, but daylight could still be seen through parts of him. He made a fist, which split the reforming flesh and just had time to observe tendons operating equally realistic bones, before blood vessels, muscles and fresh skin covered them.
‘It has to be an illusion,’ said Faruk.
Hassan pointed to the mirror and Faruk turned back to it. His scalp was about to close over but what continued to seethe underneath covered something that appeared more white than the dull-grey metal seen before. Hassan looked over Faruk’s shoulder. ‘One can only marvel at the miracle of the blessing, my brother.’ He closed his eyes as if to pray.
Faruk’s recovery became complete – back to the slightly stooped and sagging naked body of a man in his mid-sixties. If it was all an illusion, his brain didn’t think it worth presenting an image of a younger man.
Hassan picked up the cut-throat razor and offered it to Faruk. ‘Perhaps you would like to have another try?’ He tapped his own cheek. ‘At shaving, I mean.’ Hassan was then distracted by the window – shards of glass left in the frame were busy reforming themselves into a new pane. The separate fragments scattered about the floor disappeared into it.
The prince was keen for Faruk to get back to his mission. ‘The engine will take longer to replace, so you’ve plenty of time for a shower. A change of clothing will be waiting for you once you’re done.’
Hassan, Mo and the Amedic then made for the door. Faruk looked at the window becoming less and less of a hole. It closed. ‘Wait,’ he said. All three stopped. ‘What’s happening? What does all this mean?’
The three of them smiled before speaking in unison. ‘Something amazing, my brother.’
Chapter Thirteen
Faruk stepped off the elevator, walked out of the aircraft’s shadow and presented his face to the sun. Not something the old Faruk would have done. He smiled, and ran a hand over the smoothness of his freshly shaved chin. The old Faruk wouldn’t have done that either. He wondered if his transformation into whatever “God” wanted him to be was complete. The cynical way in which he continued to refer to The Almighty indicated otherwise.
He scanned the horizon. Vienna’s airport was as busy as the field hospital they had left behind, and for the same reason – lines of construction and medical traffic wound their way in and out of identical underground bunkers that appeared to be at a similar level of completion. He thought of their purpose and what was being done to those who entered. It didn’t bother him anymore. If anything, it made eminent sense now.
A squeal caused Faruk to look at his daughter. She and Ula were trying to evade Mo’s attempts to spray them with a water pistol – he must have picked it up from one of the aircraft’s stores. Ula soon had the tables turned, and the sight of her chasing Mo instead made Faruk laugh. Something else his old self wouldn’t have done.
Faruk then switched his attention to where an engine was being constructed. His thoughts returned to Zara, and he became sad. Whatever form his new life was to take, it didn’t include a suppression of all of his emotions. A loss of anger wasn’t something to be mourned, but nobody else seemed to care what had happened to Zara – not even her husband. Faruk had considered commiserating with him, but the gourmet’s obsession made choosing the moment difficult. Maybe burying his head in food was the man’s way of coming to terms with grief as well as hunger?
The growth of the new power plant was well underway – spidery tendrils extended out and down from the wing and had already formed the familiar shape. A robot busied itself next to the carcass with a process similar to that used to resurrect Faruk – pumping in the necessary fluids. Details of how the nanobots went about the business appeared in front of Faruk’s eyes, but he dismissed it in the same way he did the thoughts of others.
He walked over to the Amechanic. The noise of the pump and a refusal to merge meant a tap on the robot’s shoulder became necessary. The Amechanic dropped what it was holding, spun round and fell to its knees.
‘Your Royal Highness! A thousand apologies! Please forgive this miserable Aservant. May Allah bless you for a thousand—’
‘Get up, you idiot.’ Faruk was embarrassed. He looked to see who might be watching.
The robot got to its feet. ‘Yes, yes, Your Royal Highness. Please forgive this miserable idiot who will accept whatever punishment the prince sees fit.’
‘Prince? I think I had better change into something more modest. I’m no more a prince than you are. In fact, our social status couldn’t be more equal.’
‘Oh no, Your Royal Highness, that could never be. You shine like the very light from Allah himself.’
Faruk took his fellow robot’s arm. ‘Look at me.’ Eyes stayed glued to a spot somewhere in the middle of Faruk’s chest. He shook the robot. ‘I said, look at me.’ The robot raised its head. ‘We are both robots. We couldn’t be more equal, brother.’
The Amechanic became quizzical. The artificial, almost comical way in which its plastic features mimicked puzzlement made Faruk realise their biomechanical origins may have been identical but not their construction. He didn’t need to zoom in on the robot’s skin to see how inferior it was. Faruk let go as he would something unpleasant.
‘We need to be airborne again as soon as possible, my brother.’ Hassan had arrived and the Amechanic fell to its knees again. ‘So, I would ask that you refrain from engaging with the Aservants needed to ensure that.’ Hassan then appeared to merge with the robot. It winced, grabbed its abdomen and went back to the task in hand. Hassan encouraged Faruk to walk beside him. ‘Probably best not to socialise with those designed to fulfil roles outside of one’s own, Faruk. It only confuses them, and besides, we’ve yet to establish how Satan managed to turn Zara against us so one cannot be too careful.’
‘Yes, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I must have been thinking.’ Faruk stopped. ‘Or thinking now.’ The sound of a jet engine being started made him turn back to it. ‘If something amazing is truly happening and the merging of humans with robots is part of it, then surely it must be the same for all?’ The noise became too loud to communicate by voice, and for the first time, Faruk invited Hassan to merge. To Faruk’s surprise, the gesture was refused.
Hassan beckoned Faruk into the aircraft’s elevator instead. They were joined by Isra and her friends. The door closed once they were inside and Isra put her arms around her father. She grinned at him and he smiled back but then grimaced as cold water was squirted into his face. Along with Ula and Mo, Isra laughed and Faruk realised he couldn’t remember having seen his daughter do that before. Not in his presence, that was for sure.
Hassan was amused too. ‘Probably best not to question Allah’s blessings, my friend. Just enjoy the fruits of them.’
Chapter Fourteen
Faruk slipped on some dry clothing and pondered how best to get even with his daughter. The onboard mall would be the place for ideas. He chuckled to himself. Faruk rather liked what he was becoming.
He was about to enter the emporium when he spotted a sign for the mosque. Faruk hadn’t prayed for days. Guilt forced a change of direction. He paused to confirm the extent of his recovered beliefs before begging Allah for forgiveness there and then. Entering an unfamiliar
part of the aircraft, the born-again worshipper walked down a corridor before opening a door at the end. What lay beyond surprised him.
The mosque was so vast and stark in contrast to what Faruk had seen so far, he assumed he had taken a wrong turn. The exposed lattice of spars and longerons that make up an aircraft’s skeleton certainly gave that impression. He was about to retrace his steps when he realised the structure supported more than just wings and passengers – metal walkways and stairs interlaced the void and storage shelves lay between them. He approached one. What Faruk saw next ended his prayers.
There was no need for a closer inspection – colour and shape alone was enough – but it was the extent of the cargo that stunned Faruk. The consignment consisted of nothing but red pills, but they weren’t in boxes or bottles. No, each individual tablet had been placed on end and in rows that appeared to go on forever. There must have been millions of them. They looked like tiny red eggs, waiting to hatch. As if to emphasise that, an amber warning light flashed, and the sound of electric motors heralded the extension of tubes that then “laid” a new pill at the beginning of each row. The noise of the tablets shifting up one place to make room for the new additions made Faruk jump. The sound echoed throughout the chamber, and he realised every pill must have done the same – as if on a conveyor belt. The cargo compartment wasn’t just a storage facility. It was a factory.
Assuming the mosque to be somewhere up ahead, Faruk restarted his prayers and walked. Something about the pills caused him to stop again. He zoomed in on one. He zoomed back out when he realised it didn’t contain what he was expecting – instead of being in turmoil, the red liquid inside was still. Faruk was about to focus on the pill again when what was inside shook, twisted, elongated and then separated into two halves. Faruk stood back – other tablets in the vicinity had done the same. Movement further along caught his eye and he strode over to it. This line of pills was settling from a similar division – into four cells each.
Faruk quickened his pace and had soon overtaken the rate at which the conveyor was moving. Eight cells became sixteen, and he guessed, sixty-four by the time he stopped again. He selected one and brought it up to an eye. The pill shook and the zygote inside divided once more. Some of the cells then clumped together. Faruk didn’t need to be an embryologist to see what was happening. He replaced the egg and searched his mind for confirmation of the process before attempting to merge with the aircraft’s AI to see where it was leading. Like Hassan before, it wouldn’t let him.
Faruk took the stairs to the next level. It wasn’t long before he saw what he was now expecting – row upon row of not pills but eggs, each containing the familiar sea of surging red nanobots. He was about to select one, when it fell to the floor. He picked it up, but only to see the torrent inside decrease. The nanobots had begun to form themselves into something, but no longer seemed capable of completing the task. Another egg fell. Like the broken shards of glass in Faruk’s cabin, it then sank into the floor. Faruk went to place what he had back with the rest, but there was no longer the room for it – the eggs were growing and at a rate that anything not keeping up was being pushed out of the nest. Like a cuckoo would its victim.
‘Isn’t God amazing?’ Faruk dropped what he had, and in an instant the floor had absorbed it. Hassan was holding something up to the light. If it was still a pill, it had become impossible to swallow. ‘I come here sometimes just to marvel at what The Almighty will think of next.’ He put the egg back, but within seconds, it had fallen and merged with the floor. Hassan shrugged. ‘Creationism would appear to be as unforgiving as evolution.’ Faruk was struck dumb. ‘Come, Faruk, let us worship Allah together.’ He put an arm around the confused believer and steered him to the next level.
Faruk couldn’t take his eyes from what he was witnessing, and he didn’t need to enhance his vision to see it. The surviving eggs were soon the size of rugby balls and he couldn’t help but be drawn to what was growing inside. He was staring in morbid fascination at the rapid development of one when it toppled to the floor. The shell shattered, and the creature that had formed inside awoke. It screamed. Faruk closed his eyes and begged God to end its torment. The floor did.
More and more eggs were doing the same, but what twisted and turned within each, lived and then died no matter what was produced. Few bore a resemblance to anything natural. Vaguely animal, vegetable or mineral, everything and anything from fish to grass to plastics and even metals could be seen rising and falling as if going through a cycle of some kind. Not just the life and death of a species or even the existence of an inanimate object, but the Earth’s entire history seemed to be playing out before Faruk and at a breakneck speed that appeared to cram billions of years into just minutes. It wasn’t long before the rows of pills first seen had “evolved” into two lines of ovum standing some seven feet tall. The conveyor then entered another part of the aircraft.
Hassan paused at the door to it. ‘Are you finally ready to meet your maker, my brother?’ Faruk didn’t respond.
Light as dazzling as the sun itself caused Faruk to squint, and he raised a hand. Hassan took Faruk’s other arm and together they entered the place of worship. Brightness made it impossible to see what was ahead but the factory’s production line had split and was now standing like an honour guard either side of where the two devotees walked. The eggs hatched, their shells melting into the floor as swiftly as their less-worthy siblings had.
Faruk was disappointed. The newborns appeared to be a child’s idea of perfection rather than God’s – dull, grey and slab-like, with square, emotionless features that didn’t seem capable of expressing words let alone emotions – hardly the ultimate in fusion between the biological and the inanimate. But as with any creature first brought to life, they needed to exercise their bodies, and as Faruk was about to discover, that meant more than filling new lungs with air or stretching limbs for the first time.
Like the containers they grew up in, their protective exteriors dissolved to reveal something more recognisable – humanoids. Or at least that was the impression, but without sex organs it was impossible to be sure. Muscle definition hinted at something masculine but they were like no man Faruk had seen.
The creatures shook. As with their pill-like origins, they then twisted and elongated before a billion nanobots swarmed over each and, moments later, a new life had presented itself. Still humanoid, but no sooner had its features reminded Faruk of someone familiar, than another example of God’s work appeared. Before long, every caste, colour, creed, plastic and even steel had been created, and that included an example of what Faruk had seen cast aside earlier – these grotesques screamed their agony even louder.
Faruk was both horrified and fascinated, and was relieved when the nanobots chose to revert the suffering back into the androgynous beings of before. And then it struck him. The nanobots weren’t revealing, constructing or even repairing – they were reforming. Reforming themselves into whatever they chose to be. Like infinite chimaeras of what lived, had lived, existed or just happened to be. The Earth’s newest arrivals then turned en masse and knelt before their maker.
A drone of prayer commenced, and Faruk realised the aircraft’s passengers formed part of the congregation. Imams and Clerics encouraged the two men to join the worshippers and Faruk searched for his daughter before choosing to kneel beside one of the newborns. Despite his devotion to God, Faruk was taken by the creature’s unsettling nature, and couldn’t help but stare. He looked for Isra again and then back to the creation. Faruk halted his prayers and stood up.
An Imam approached him to enquire why. The holy man’s body blocked the shafts of God’s radiance, enabling Faruk to view Allah’s features too.
There was no mistaking her.
PART TWO
Chapter One
‘Rack ’em up, then.’
‘But there isn’t any chalk.’
‘I keep tell
ing you to buy your own. Place is full of thieves, you know.’
James picked up the triangle. The arrival of the new inmate made him put it back down again. The pool table was too far from the prison wing’s entrance to see the man’s face, but his height was enough to identify him.
‘Bloody hell. It’s true.’ Tim had followed his cellmate’s gaze. ‘I wonder who he’ll be sharing with?’
‘Share? I don’t think the word even exists in his vocabulary.’
Professor Savage was led to his prison cell. The door remained open, and one of the new Astaff posted itself outside.
Tim smirked. ‘Well, that’s a laugh – he needs a suicide watch!’
‘Other way around, I would have thought.’
James and Tim put down their cues and wandered over – as did most of the wing. The majority, mainly those that had already undergone the treatment, just stared, but a couple yet to be allocated their pills passed comment.
‘Not so clever now, are ya?’
‘How many kids was it, Mengele? Fuckin’ Nazi bastard.’
Threats were made which the Astaff appeared not to judge as serious. Savage ignored them too, which meant the inmates eventually grew bored and drifted back to whatever they’d been doing. Tim wanted his cellmate to get back to their game of pool, but James moved closer to the entrance to the professor’s cell instead.
The uniform of a baggy sweatshirt and loose pants did its best to bring Savage down to the rest of them, but somehow, he still managed to cut a dash. Watching him place a bar of soap and shaving brush above the sink before sorting the sheets for his bed was a pitiful sight, however, and brought home to James just how far from grace the professor had fallen. Despite the world baying for blood, James felt sorry for him – until he remembered what had been done to Tim and an increasing number of others in the prison.