by Alechia Dow
“Yeah, right,” I scoff. “I’ve never seen an Ilori get hanged. You’re one of them. You’re a commander, you’re in charge.”
“I assure you, I am not.” Morris shakes his head, and for a second, I could almost think he’s human. “They don’t hang my kind. They have other ways.”
If he’s lying to me, I can’t tell. But there’s something about the way he says it, and the way his eyes crinkle at the edges, making him look tired and defeated, that makes me want to believe him. Why would he lie? He could be appealing to my humanity, gaining my sympathy so that I’ll get him music. Yet once he has it, if what he says is true, they could kill him for it. What’s the end result for him? Getting music, or fooling a human? Either I’m being manipulated, or he’s telling the truth.
“I know you do not believe me, and I want to earn your trust.” Morris suddenly holds his head high, straightening his back. “I’ll protect you. I’ll protect your family. I can’t guarantee their safety, but I can try.”
The thought of him saving my family, maybe Alice and even her family...that’s too good to pass up. Even if he is manipulating me, which still seems off. “Okay.”
Morris beams. “Oh, this brings me such joy.” His tone is far more exuberant than I would expect of an Ilori.
“I thought your species isn’t big on emotions?” That’s what the television reports said. They don’t feel. There is no compassion. If you see an Ilori, run. Morris might have sung to me, but I can’t unlearn what I’ve heard.
He frowns. “We aren’t supposed to be.”
I don’t have time to unpack that, so I move on. “What happens in two days?”
Morris fidgets with the cloth on the mattress. “The vaccine. Those with the necessary specifications in this quadrant will receive it.”
“Necessary specifications?” My eyebrows lift.
“Blood is like a map. It can tell the history of a person, their strength. If they can survive a procedure. As you are here, you meet the criteria.”
“Great, I guess I have strong blood.” I snort. “So, you want me to find music for you, and you won’t let them kill me. I give you the music, and then I’ll die anyway?”
“I will protect you.” He’s quiet for a moment. “I’ll...move you and your family somewhere safe.” He rubs his hands together. “I can do this.”
“How can I trust you to protect us if you’re just as powerless as I am?”
I’m not just as powerless as you. His voice whispers into my mind. “When an Ilori makes a promise, they keep that promise.”
“You didn’t promise me anything.”
Morris regards me closely now and nods. “You are right. We are risking much, both of us. I promise you, I’ll keep you from the vaccine as long as I can. I will move you. I will...find a way.” His chin dips in conviction.
If he can save everyone who matters to me and keep me from death a little longer, I’ll do it. “Deal. But no more talking in my mind without permission.”
“Deal.” Morris smiles, and it almost looks human this time. “You will not regret this, Janelle Baker.” The way he says my name would have made me laugh, if I weren’t so tired and scared.
“Just call me Ellie.”
“Ellie,” he says, his fingers tracing a book inside the mattress. “Why do you do this?”
“Books make me feel like...myself. I want others to feel the same.” I have a million more reasons, and I won’t explain them now. Not to him. “Why do you like music?”
“Music makes me feel.” His answer is soft but rings with his truth. “I like feeling.”
I nod, silent. He’s my enemy, but he sang to me. He might cast me aside and let me die, but he admits to weakness. He’s done something, in this brief introduction, that I would never have expected; he put a face to the Ilori and, in doing so, he’s made me doubt, even just a little, what I think I know about them.
“You are an interesting human, Ellie.”
“Have you ever met a human before, Morris?”
He exhales, gaze falling to the floor. “No. I—I’ve been on Earth for only three days.” For a moment I think he’s going to say more, but he doesn’t.
I back away and open the door. I won’t engage, because there’s nothing I can say without unleashing my bottled-up anger. “I’ll get the music.”
“See you soon, Ellie.”
Back in my room, my thoughts are jumbled, and my heart’s still racing. He didn’t ask, but that was the first time I ever spoke with an Ilori, the first time one has ever looked me in the eyes. And it wasn’t what I expected. It wasn’t like the news reports, or the horror stories circulating around the building. I can almost believe that Morris isn’t going to kill me.
Almost.
CHAPTER 6
“Landslide”
—Fleetwood Mac
M0Rr1S
A sigh escapes through his teeth, and he turns off the music. Time’s up. A new day begins. He pours a glass of calef juice, imported from home. But he drinks it from a human glass, which makes it thrilling.
Home is so far away. He wonders if his mother misses him or is afraid for him, or if his father thinks better of him now. He laughs, surprising himself. Never. His mind drifts to Janelle—Ellie—while he settles at the table and drinks.
He...he finds himself wanting to talk to her again. Be friends, maybe. But their arrangement is dangerous. Will she get him music? Can he keep her and her family alive? Could she ever forgive him for who and what he is? Many questions with few answers. He was not granted the ability to see the future—such abilities don’t exist, anyway. Not for Ilori. Although, it would be most welcome at this particular moment and time.
A lyric strikes him, and like all music he enjoys, he lets it pass through his lips in a melody that brings him comfort and warmth. Fleetwood Mac. A strange name, but the music is nice. He sings along, unsure of the words but lost in the emotions that it pulls from him. Will Ellie be his “Landslide”? The final piece that brings him down and leaves him vulnerable to Il-0CoM?
Having the communication system in his mind is unsettling. One slip-up could be his doom. Yet, if he wants to, even so far away, he could send an invitation to connect to his mother. She could comfort him and tell him it’ll be okay. He could tell her that he’s safe and fulfilling the role she requested of him. But he’s not in the mood to fake confidence.
She’s the reason he’s here. She’s the reason he was raised to feel, and to follow those feelings.
M0Rr1S closes his eyes before flipping the switch. Il-0CoM starts like static until it becomes sharp. Names float around, identifying the speakers, as he enters the conversation.
How are we on the vaccine?
We have troubles with human forces in the drylands.
Do we bomb them?
Do not destroy the land. We will find a solution. They cannot hide in their caves much longer. They will need food. They will need air.
Weak.
He does not recognize all the voices speaking in circles inside his mind. If he could focus on just one voice, he might, but it is too overwhelming.
These human cars are efficient. With tinkering, we could make them more ecological. We must reduce the emissions, and bring the CO2 levels down. All commanders are to use cars while our transport veliopters should be used sparingly.
Humans. Unwise. Destroying such a world.
It is not only the humans that inhabit this world. Andarrans are scattered along the West Coast of what was called the United States. It is said they—
We have a peace treaty with the Andarrans, a general insists. They may live wherever they like. As long as they do not burden us with their insight of time. Or stand in our path.
The Andarrans, more voices mutter.
Expressionists.
Too much knowledge of the universe.
M0Rr1S wonders how there could ever be “too much knowledge” about the universe, as it is unending and constantly changing, but he doesn’t say so.
The Andarrans, a true Ilori says, are innocuous and have never engaged in war, but their leaders are ancient. They rule by their emotions. In this regard, we must always exercise caution with them.
Let us discuss more pertinent topics, another true Ilori huffs. Is all of Earth salvageable?
Certainly, a labmade from Habitation chimes in. We have also allocated and utilized land conducive to human housing. We have built solid structures, reconfigured their outdated heating and cooling systems, created more natural environments, not only for local wildlife, but for farmlands that produce nutritional foods for humans’ improved health, given them synthetic clothing that should increase their comfort and created access to advanced medicine, education and assistance. Why, it is our belief that we have improved the quality of life for 63 percent of the human population. They pause as unwanted excitement has begun threading through their words. The humans may even be content in time.
That would be ideal, another labmade says.
However nice the permanent housing, M0Rr1S knows freedom and choice would lead to further contentment, but doesn’t say as much.
That was never our objective, a true Ilori states plainly. The humans are a product we need. Their contentment and treatment mean nothing to us.
The contentment of humans, not just those that will be used as husks, is necessary to avoid rebellion. We have the resources. It would be shortsighted, sir, not to consider their permanent treatment, another labmade says, and M0Rr1S wishes they hadn’t. Their name vanishes from Il-0CoM a second later. They were either booted out, or shut down to face penalization. Some true Ilori, especially the older ones, don’t care to be corrected and will not hesitate to end a labmade life when disrespected. Further proof that true Ilori feel, yet no one is allowed to say so.
Commander M0Rr1S, how is your quadrant of Earth coming? One of the last origin quadrants, yes?
The congested metropolis was too difficult to move altogether into housing, someone answers on his behalf.
Commander M0Rr1S, today is vaccine testing, correct?
He debates not answering, but they are aware he is connected, logged in. If he does not, it will be just as suspicious. Vaccine testing will begin shortly. We separated those with the required specifications from those without and moved them into housing in the north of the hemisphere. The entirety left within my quadrant will be tested. From there, the vaccine will be produced and utilized on those within housing at Command’s discretion. My work here is nearly complete. It’s true; Manhattan was once so densely populated that finding humans was easy. From there, they were locked down in their buildings and separated to await the vaccine. Only a few buildings remain in his area. Thirteen in total. But as I’ve stated before, and shall state again, we must cease killing humans for transgressions. We are losing our most viable husks. M0Rr1S sits up, hoping his words will be considered.
A chatter breaks out that causes M0Rr1S to rub his temples.
As you can hear, Commander, there is dispute on how best to handle our human problem.
Our true Ilori masters are skeptical about the harvesting process.
There is...an element of unnecessary emotion among you labmades. You find it difficult to kill those you were created to imitate. You may even feel guilt over the humans. However, we, your masters, find that eliminating human threat is best for control, especially in your locked-down facilities.
M0Rr1S wants to argue, but he must choose his words carefully. One slip... I am commander of this quadrant, yet my authority has been overridden. There are still executions without my say. He tries to keep the slight edge from his voice.
If your authority is being overridden, the orders come from higher up. This will hardly be a problem once the vaccine is administered.
Hardly a problem indeed. When they are quarantined in permanent housing, they can grow more. And there are still many of them.
M0Rr1S shakes his head as his concern is overlooked once again. He is commander in title only. No labmade has ever been in complete control. True Ilori monitor them and involve themselves in every situation. That is why M0Rr1S keeps Il-0CoM off more often than not, why he has trained to keep his thoughts and memory private.
Commander M0Rr1S, when your centers are vaccinated, your pod will be awaiting you outside the metropolis. Area L1B-72-Gr-S. When you arrive, your passcode will be given, and you can upload your memory onto the main system.
M0Rr1S sits back, taking another sip of his juice. He must keep the eagerness from his thoughts. Thank you.
Pleased to leave, Commander? You were on Earth but a few rotations. A snicker accompanies the question.
He must be thoughtful. “I desire to serve my empire with a new task.”
A new task?
If you desire to be useful, Commander, perhaps you can find a solution for the humans currently engaged in warfare against us. That would be most helpful. We can adjust your extraction so that you can apply your usefulness there. Let us know at your convenience.
Have you ever been engaged in war, Commander? A voice far away cuts through the discussion with a hint of superiority. Another commander who didn’t need their family name to acquire the position, most likely.
He is young. Inexperienced. Another adds. Brixton. He knows that voice better than anyone.
Captain Brixton, a pleasure for you to join us, M0Rr1S lies. There is no pleasure derived from exchanging words with Brixton, but feeling the way he does only proves he is not equal to him. So, he must lie, pretend to be made of stone, impenetrable. We do not feel.
Commander M0Rr1S. I assure you, the pleasure is all mine. Brixton’s words are as flat as expected. His older brother is as stoic as an Ilori is meant to be, as Father expects them to be.
M0Rr1S looks for the right words, grasping to say something, but AvR0la interrupts. Ah, there you are, sir. We are to begin testing the vaccine on a select group today.
His shoulders sag in relief. Saved. And then he remembers what this means. Thank you, AvR0la. What G00287 granteth–
The Ilori taketh, Il-0CoM answers in unison.
He does not switch the feed off yet, but he lets the voices fade till they’re mild background chatter.
The vaccine. He wonders if Janelle knows the subjects. The answer is immediate. She’s been trapped in this building possibly since Ilori took control. There are a thousand of them, but they all must know each other. And undoubtedly, her mother will be among the first wave of vaccinations.
M0Rr1S ducks into the commode to splash his face with water. He wraps his black jacket around himself and straightens his title dangling on his chest. The door opens at his command, and he takes the elevator down to the testing floor, two stories beneath his apartment.
He places his hand on a screen panel, and a door opens to the white hallway and bright lights. AvR0la awaits him by the first room. They look somber, and their gaze darts to the inhabitants inside.
M0Rr1S leans in close to AvR0la. “There are three humans that need to be kept from testing. I believe they live in domicile 2H. They have a daughter, JQB-305-7-21. Are any being tested now?”
“Will check the records, sir.” AvR0la glances upward at their optic screen, rushing through files. “The elder female is scheduled for tomorrow.”
“Cancel the directive. Keep that family away from vaccinations until I determine what to do with them.”
“Yes, sir.” AvR0La doesn’t question his orders. “It is time.” They hold their hand out, inviting him to enter the small office first.
Where once there were tables and screens, there are cushioned beds with humans strapped to them. The first sound to reach M0Rr1S’s ears is that of sobbing. Despite his desire, M0Rr1S can’t do anything for them. His ove
rsight is necessary, while true Ilori will listen in from afar. They step inside the small space, an Ilori doctor standing in the back, monitoring the humans’ vitals.
M0Rr1S never explicitly studied humans, but he does know some things about them, after all, Earth-mission labmades were designed in their image. While they share most common features, human behavior is different. Behavior comes from surroundings. Labmade Ilori are expected to let facts and true Ilori dictate their expressions. Humans feel and express everything, sometimes regardless of facts. It is why they are so fascinating.
“Commander.” AvR0la is looking at him with curiosity. “Have you heard the question?”
“No, my apologies. I was reflecting.”
“Of course, sir. Shall we do the vaccine in blocks of ten patients and monitor their behavior for a day or shall we do them all today?”
He knows what he is expected to say. Three faces stare at him while he decides. One is AvR0la, who will not question his decision. Another is a doctor, who is communicating via Il-0CoM. The last is the patient on the table, a mask over her mouth. Her eyes are frantic, but she is paralyzed. He needn’t worry about her. Yet, he does. “Test all prepared subjects today.”
The doctor nods in M0Rr1S’s direction. “Simultaneous inoculation. I will communicate your orders to the others on standby down the corridor.” The other rooms down the hall.
“We will keep a few spares for later.” M0Rr1S nods to AvR0la. “We haven’t time to waste. We will monitor their behavior, and, assuming it proves satisfactory, we will administer the vaccines to the next group tomorrow and the youth the following day. Across all buildings.”
The doctor’s face goes slack as he engages in Il-0CoM. This was the correct answer, they all know that now. The doctor gives him a slight, insulting bow. The vaccine is administered into the patient’s neck through a metal-tubed stunner. The effects are instant. They monitor her as her blood pressure plummets but her heartbeat stabilizes. Her brain activity ceases, and her breathing becomes rhythmic and slow.