Enhancer 5

by Wyatt Kane

  “Gregory can keep an eye on you here just as easily as he could if you were on the table,” she said.

  As if in response to the deerkin’s words, the house robot in question whirred about on its mechanical bendable arm and positioned itself next to the chair.

  It was as if the medical robot knew the routine. Strangely, its actions gave Ty a sense of comfort, and he happily sat.

  Once again, Dinah injected him with a solution that contained Sarah’s serum and the general restorative she had used before. Then, with Gregory standing by, Ty drew a deep breath to steel himself.

  Both Dinah and Lilith watched him with sober, determined expressions, and Ty tried to ignore the red rims around their eyes, evidence of their mutual grief.

  Then, for the second time that day, Ty broke the seal on the one-shot inhaler and introduced another dose of AZT-407 into his system.

  16: AZT-407 Trance

  Once again, Ty’s mind was abuzz. It was like he was flying even though his feet were firmly on the ground, and if it weren’t for the seriousness of the task at hand, he would have been thoroughly enjoying himself.

  He was back in the workshop, working under the full benefit of the AZT-407 buff, and making good progress. At his side was Dinah, and just like he had done once before, he was using her skill of information control like a conductor at an orchestra, asking pertinent questions as he continued his work.

  For inspiration, he needed to look only at the cryo chamber next to the workbench. Tempest stood within it, her unseeing eyes staring out through the glass as if imploring him to do his best.

  Lilith had joined them for a short time, but her skills were less useful to Ty, and she had felt out of place. After a quick discussion, the three of them agreed that she could be of more value to those who were buried in the rubble of the Concubine Club.

  As the demon woman blinked out of existence to try to save the lives of Ty’s old workmates and their customers, Ty couldn’t help but feel guilty. With Tempest in the cryo chamber, he could effectively do this work at any time. He could have joined Lilith in the rescue mission looking for Badger, Martin, and the rest. Logically, he should have done so.

  But emotionally was a whole other matter.

  He had no option other than try to save Tempest’s life. It wouldn’t have mattered if the whole of New Lincoln was burning to the ground, or if Gremlin had decided to sprout wings and fly about the room. Ty’s entire focus would still have been on the blonde superhero.

  It didn’t even matter to him that she was already technically dead.

  And Dinah was much the same. Ty had never seen her like this. Always before, she had maintained her self-control. Even when she had been kidnapped by Bain and his men, she had emerged largely unruffled.

  Not even Zach’s death had hit her this hard.

  So instead of accompanying Lilith on her rescue mission, Ty transferred control of his crawlers to her device before she left. Then he and Dinah had got to work.

  But they weren’t alone. Gremlin had wandered in as they began. The cat had never been much of a fan of Tempest, preferring Dinah’s company over that of anyone else. Including Ty, even though the cat was technically his. But the sight of the blonde superhero in the cryo chamber seemed to upset her. She spent considerable time inspecting as much of the chamber as she could, while looking back toward Dinah and Ty and meowing to express her concern.

  Dinah immediately swooped on the creature, scooping her up in her arms.

  “It’s okay,” she said, in a reassuring tone. “Tempest will be okay,” and Ty understood she was trying to reassure herself as much as the cat.

  Gremlin bore the attention for only the few moments before placing her foot on Dinah’s breast and trying to push her away. Dinah got the message, made a noise of disappointment, and lowered the cat back to the floor before the black monster could wriggle out of her grasp.

  Yet the furball stayed in the workshop as Ty and Dinah worked. In the past, her favorite spot had been on the workbench, despite whatever holographic display Ty was working on. But this time, she chose instead to curl up at Tempest’s feet and purr as if offering the woman her best wishes.

  Ty watched the furry monster with a mixture of sadness and gratitude. Gremlin hadn’t always been the easiest cat to live with. She was willful and could be demanding, and always acted not as a pet, but as her own independent self. With Ty, her displays of affection had been typically rare.

  But for all that, or perhaps because of it, when she did display some sort of affection, it seemed to mean so much more.

  “Perhaps her presence might help,” Dinah said, expressing Ty’s thoughts.

  He nodded, then continued with what he was doing.

  Minimal brain activity.

  Tempest’s body was secondary. It was her mind that mattered the most. Her soul, the bit that made Tempest who she was. It was that which Ty had sensed leaving her as he’d held her hand outside the ruins of the Concubine Club. It was that which he’d feared lost forever when Dinah’s adrenaline and shocks had failed to bring her back to life in the medical bay.

  It was that which Ty hoped wasn’t gone forever.

  If he could somehow save that part, he could work on the rest at his leisure. And as soon as he’d taken the AZT-407, he thought he could see a way he could do that. It all depended on the neural link he’d developed to aid communication with the Architect.

  Effectively, he had a map. A way of looking inside a person’s mind in a way that a handful of lines on a monitor could never do. And, in a way, he had far more than that.

  He had the beginnings of a framework that might be able to support consciousness outside of a human brain. It hadn’t been his intention to develop that framework when he’d put his neural link together, but the AZT-407 allowed him to see quite clearly how it could be adapted to the purpose.

  Instead of providing an insight into Tempest’s mind, he could build a cradle for her consciousness.

  To do so, he needed something that could do more than just communicate with an existing mind. He needed something with structure and storage, and a complex labyrinth of interconnections far beyond anything Ty had ever conceived before.

  His neural link was just the first step. It would give insight into what he needed to do, like a roadmap might show all the streets of New Lincoln.

  But then he needed to build those streets as well. It was complex and fiendishly fiddly, and even with the help of the AZT-407, Ty was unsure if he could do it. But he wouldn’t give up. Doing so might be akin to giving up on Tempest herself, and that was something he would never do.

  When he was done, he ought to have something that could keep Tempest alive even if her body was lost completely.

  As he’d done several times before, he worked in a trance and did what he needed to do.

  ◆◆◆

  The cradle of consciousness Ty created was a thing of beauty. Effectively, it was little more than a computer, but so incredibly advanced that it made everything else seem like a toy.

  Ty had hooked it up to the Stark imager as he had done with the neuro link before it, so they could get a visual representation of what was happening. With Dinah’s help, he’d created a processor that could duplicate all the various, complex functions of a human mind.

  Effectively, he had built all the hardware as well as creating all the necessary programming for an artificial brain, and on any other day, that achievement alone would have been the cause for unfettered celebration.

  In the small part of Ty’s mind, he knew he had just changed the world forever. In the course of half a day of pure, unadulterated, AZT-407 enhanced creativity, artificial intelligence had gone from an unattainable theoretical possibility to no more than the turning of a key away.

  What that might mean for New Lincoln or humanity as a whole, Ty couldn’t begin to predict.

  But that wasn’t his intention. From his perspective, he didn’t care about that particular achievement. It was inc
onsequential, no more than a side effect of reaching for his true goal.

  All he cared about was giving Tempest’s consciousness a home outside of her body.

  With his heart pounding in his chest and the first hint of hope he’d felt since realizing the extent of Tempest’s injuries, Ty imported everything he could gain from Tempest to his cradle.

  Memories, hopes, dreams, everything that made up who Tempest was, he accessed everything he could find and ported it over. When it was done, with images of Doctor Frankenstein raising his monster into an electrical storm to harvest the lightning, Ty then reversed the neural link so that it accessed not Tempest directly, but the consciousness he had created in his artificial cradle.

  Both he and Dinah watched as the three-dimensional image of Tempest’s mind coalesced above the workbench.

  “It’s working,” Ty said, and knew that he wasn’t the only one aching with anticipation. Without consciously deciding to do so, he reached for Dinah’s hand and grasped it in his own. The deerkin responded by squeezing him tight, but didn’t break her gaze from the image that formed.

  But where the Architect’s mind had tumbled with color and coruscating images right from the start, Tempest’s remained subdued and dark. There was something there, Ty could see it, and knew that his process had worked. But instead of colorful images and vibrant movement, with Tempest there was no more than shadows and dimness.

  Ty stared in disbelief for some seconds.

  “What’s happening?” Dinah asked, her voice filled with concern. “Didn’t it work?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Ty replied, but even as he spoke, a bubble of truth raised its ugly head in his mind.

  He did know what had happened. It was as clear as the image over the workbench. And it was horrible to contemplate.

  Minimal brain activity, Ty thought again, thinking back to the monitoring device in the med bay.

  With a sinking feeling deep in his chest, he admitted to himself what he had done.

  He felt himself sag as the hope faded away.

  “It’s working as it should,” he admitted. “But all I’ve managed to do is copy Tempest as she is now. She’s all there, the same as before, but we haven’t managed to wake her up.”

  All at once, Ty knew that his work had been for nothing. It was no more than a monument to his unwillingness to accept the truth, and part of him had known it right from the start.

  Tempest was gone. The spark of life that had burned so brightly at the start of the day had been blown out by Bain’s single, vile act. And there was nothing Ty could do to bring her back.

  All of the emotions Ty had been denying since returning to the mansion came flooding back. He wanted to rage at Bain, to howl in fury at what the man had done. But he was exhausted as well. He’d gone the whole day without food, and had worked hard since dawn. He had nothing left for anger.

  What he did have was grief, and he let it all out at once in a single, unfettered sob.

  He had failed. His best efforts had come to naught. All they had left of Tempest was an empty shell in a cryo chamber.

  Ty found himself weeping uncontrollably. Then Dinah swept him into a full embrace and held him tight.

  “It’s okay,” she said, stroking his hair. “It’s okay. You’ve done your best, and maybe for today, that’s enough. She’ll still be here tomorrow, and the next day. We’ll think of a way to wake her. Just give it some time.”

  17: Grief and Waffles

  Ty and Dinah made their way from the workshop back up to the kitchen. Night had descended some time before, but neither of them felt like going to bed quite just yet. Instead, Dinah made another spiced chai latte, and was in the process of whipping up a new batch of waffles.

  Ty’s innards felt like they were tied up in knots. After his failure, he didn’t feel like eating much at all. But he made no protest. He knew what the deerkin was doing. To some degree, it was what he’d been doing as well when building his cradle for Tempest’s consciousness.

  She was exercising her skill. Engaging in an activity she enjoyed, for the sole purpose of trying to make herself feel better. And despite everything that had happened, as soon as the rich, delicious aroma of cooking waffles teased his senses, Ty felt his mouth starting to water.

  Dinah had just plucked the first batch from the iron and set them on a plate when Lilith popped into existence just inside the main entrance.

  Even with Tempest caught in that awful place between life and death in the cryo chamber on the floor below, Ty couldn’t help but smile at the demon woman’s appearance.

  She approached them with an uncertain expression, and to Ty, she seemed a vision of loveliness that was completely at odds with how he was feeling.

  “Smells delicious,” the demon woman said.

  Even Dinah managed to smile as the demon woman approached. “I added cinnamon to the recipe,” she said. “Just for a change.”

  Lilith hesitated at Dinah’s palpable grief.

  “I’m not intruding?” she asked. “It’s just with everything that happened … I didn’t want to be alone.”

  Immediately, Dinah stopped what she was doing and lowered her bowl of batter. She left the sanctuary of the kitchen and went to Lilith, kissing her on the lips and giving her a quick hug.

  “Don’t be silly,” she said. “You are always welcome. You are one of us.”

  It was what the demon woman needed to hear. She nodded, accepting Dinah’s words, but the deerkin wasn’t done. She held Lilith slightly apart and breathed deeply.

  “Do you know you have a lovely scent?” the deerkin asked. “Warm and earthy, like a forest.”

  Lilith blushed in response.

  Dinah managed a genuine smile. “Oh, you are a treasure. Come on, sit yourself down next to Ty, and you can tell us how the rest of your day went.”

  The demon woman did as Dinah suggested, and the deerkin returned to her batter. But before she said anything else, Lilith asked the only question that mattered.

  “How is Tempest?” she said, glancing at Ty. “The work you were doing. How did it go?”

  Ty didn’t want to answer. Didn’t want to admit his defeat. Yet, as Dinah had said, Lilith was one of them. She was family. So he told her what they’d done.

  “We managed to create a duplicate of Tempest’s mind. But we couldn’t wake it up.”

  At this, the demon woman’s eyes filled with tears. “Dammit,” she said. “I told myself I wasn’t going to cry.”

  She looked away, dabbing the corners of her eyes with her fingers, and Dinah spoke into the momentary silence.

  “We haven’t given up,” she said. “If anyone can figure out a way to bring her back, Ty can. It’s just a matter of time.” She said it with a sort of forced determination, then followed it up with another smile. “Would you like a spiced chai latte made of my own recipe?” she asked.

  The demon woman accepted Dinah’s offer of a drink, then spoke of how her day had gone. Ty’s crawlers had again worked their magic, and, with the help of a surprising number of others, first responders and random people who were just on the scene, Lilith had managed to save many people.

  Ty wanted to ask of their identity, wanted to know if his friends had survived, but held his tongue. Lilith wouldn’t know one survivor from another. Except maybe Badger, whose size and facial tattoos would make him memorable. But he’d lost so much that day that he couldn’t face the knowledge of anything more. At some point, he would ask Dinah to pull up a list of the survivors, but just at that moment, he simply let Lilith talk.

  Toward the end of the day, after Lilith had saved as many of the survivors as she could, a trio of New Lincoln’s finest had approached her. At first, Lilith had thought nothing of it, but then realized their stance wasn’t friendly. Two of them had already drawn their blasters, and the third looked ready to join them.

  “What did they want?” Dinah asked, her tone hard and suspicious.

  “I don’t know,” Lilith said. “
I teleported out of there,” she said. “But my best guess is it was something to do with the art museum where we took down Spit Bitch.”

  Dinah nodded her approval. “Probably for the best,” the deerkin said. “My contacts with the police—let’s just say they’re not being as cooperative as usual. There’s something going on with them, but I don’t know what it is.”

  Lilith nodded, then continued with her story. “After that, I just went home for a while. Made sure my dad was okay, that he had enough to eat and do. I wasn’t sure about coming here tonight. I didn’t know if … maybe you wanted to be alone. It was my father who convinced me. He just asked where I felt I should be. So I had a shower and changed out of my dusty clothes, and here I am.”

  At this, Dinah judged the second batch of the waffles done to perfection, and flipped them onto the plate next to the first. She again gave Lilith her approval.

  “Your father is a wise man,” she said.

  Ty wondered briefly what might be happening with the police, but didn’t have the energy to worry about it just then. There were too many other things on his mind.

  Dinah presented him and Lilith with the plate of waffles.

  “Well? What are you waiting for? Dig in.”

  After they had eaten, they headed to Dinah’s room to bed. For the first time since he had known her, Dinah deliberately turned off all of her devices, and Ty understood why. Today had been a difficult day. None of them wanted to be woken early by the news of any other traumatic event. If Concussion, Bain, or anyone else for that matter, wanted to cause any trouble, then Dinah didn’t want to hear about it until she was good and ready.

  They climbed into bed and simply held onto each other, and Ty went to sleep to the sound of one or other of the women quietly weeping.

  ◆◆◆

  Ty’s dreams were filled with images of Tempest. Where his subconscious might have defined Dinah by her knowing smile and magic in the kitchen or surrounded by the screen in her communication room, and Lilith by her shy blush and occasional bouts of superhuman rage, his thoughts about Tempest showed how highly he regarded her.