Awakening

by Hayden Pearton

  *

  The next three hours passed quickly, as no more sub-stations were encountered. The endless monotony of the corridor walls, combined with the blandness of their surroundings, stifled all attempts at conversation. The silence ruled unopposed, striking down every mournful echo and eerie creak without mercy. The noiseless walk allowed Barsch time to think, which was the last thing he needed given his current mental state.

  “Alza has been acting weird... well, more weird than normal, ever since we left the freezer. I mean, when we first met, she treated me like a piece of furniture, not important enough to even spare more than a few words. And then, along the way, it felt like she was opening up to me a bit... I mean, it wasn't that bad in the canyon, and she did help me fight that Dire Wolf. But now? It's like we're back at square one. Not a glance, not even a stern word on how we're taking too long. What was it? What was it that made her revert back? Or maybe... maybe she never really changed... maybe I was simply wishing she would change so much that I began to believe it was true.”

  His gaze briefly alighted on her slender frame, a few feet in front of him. Even now, there was a barrier around her. Not of air or energy –although she was perfectly capable of creating either- but of silence. Whether it was visible or not, it kept him away all the same.

  “She has always said that she is with us only because it suits her goals, and that she would leave us the moment that that changed. But I refuse to accept that. She has changed, I know it! The woman I met in the glade would have never gone so far for us, time and time again, even risking herself to help us. If I could only remember, what it was that she said when I was injured... It felt important, and yet, try as I might, only bits and pieces filter through. Maybe If I remember her words, I can figure out why she is suddenly acting so coldly, and I can get her to open up once more. And until then... I will keep my distance, so as to not to drive her further away.”

  A few feet ahead of the troubled teenager, Alza was still going over what Ion had said. She replayed the Avatar's words again and again, searching for the truth behind the strange woman's warning. It was clear to her that Ion, and Terra as well, were keeping things from her, holding back information that could potentially lead her to knowledge of her unknown past.

  The Avatar's had never lied outright, of that Alza was sure, but they had never provided her with the whole truth either. Ion's cryptic message only shined more suspicion on the duo's motives. If these Avatar's, these elemental representatives of the planet, were truly so powerful and wise, why had they not taken care of the madman themselves? Surely one human, even one with such diabolical plans, was insignificant in comparison to the beings whom had once been called Gods.

  No, Alza was certain that everything that they were doing, every step they took, was in accordance with the Avatar's grand scheme. In the end, her, Barsch, Kingston and even Maloch were nothing more than pawns on a chessboard, albeit a chessboard of cosmic proportions. And when the pawns had outlived their usefulness? Well, if it ever came to that, then Ion and Terra would learn first-hand what it meant to face someone with absolutely nothing left to lose.

  Yes, she would protect Barsch... from the man with crimson eyes, and anyone else who threatened him... not out of kindness or pity -for these things were not known to her- but as a means to an end. She would keep him safe, and in return, she would make Ion tell her everything. She would learn who she was, where she came from, and most importantly, where she should go in the future. Until then, there was no need to let Barsch know about the danger that he faced, lest he think it an act of compassion and return to his insufferable... overprotective... ways...

  “Another substation up ahead! Everyone, be prepared for anything!” said Kingston, from the head of their four-man -actually two man, one woman and one re-mech- procession. Past Kingston lay another monotonous, grey walled room, the only difference being that this one contained several large heaps of scrap metal. As Barsch came closer, all six senses on alert for a trap, something about the heaps began to bug him.

  At first, he tried to ignore it, while he concentrated on searching for any signs of an ambush, but every few seconds, his eyes would dart back to the misshapen mounds. No matter how much he tried to pass off the feeling to nervousness, he could not pretend to ignore his own thoughts forever.

  “Weird, that piece of metal over there, if you look at it with just the right angle, it almost looks like a hand. And over there, next to that piece that looks like leg, when the light catches it, I could swear that it looks like an re-mech eye. And over there...” This went on and on, until the slow light of realisation dawned in his mind.

  “Kingston, these are...” he started, not wanting to complete his statement, lest he be wrong, or, rather more horribly, right.

  Kingston had already guessed what Barsch was going to say, so he went and spared him the pain of having to say it. “They're re-mechs... well, they were re-mechs... now-

  “They are what's left, after a re-mech is deemed no longer useful,” finished Barsch, needing to hear himself say it. In his troubled youth, he had once asked his father what happened to re-mechs once they were unable to continue working. His father, preying on his youthful ignorance, had told him that they were re-purposed and sent to work as personal caretakers to the rich and carefree. Barsch felt like swearing at his younger self. He wanted to curse himself for not asking why the wealthy would want to be taken care off by broken re-mechs, when they could have had a small army of servants to care for their every need. If he had, then maybe his older self would not have to deal with the sudden wave of guilt that was not assaulting him.

  Suddenly, he realised his folly. He had been so preoccupied with how he felt, he had completely forgotten about the one among them who would be most hurt. “Maloch, I'm so sorry, I didn't know... I-

  “Please do not trouble yourself over this, friend Barsch. I have always known that I am, at heart, a machine, and that just like any other machine, I will one day become obsolete. If this is my future, to be dismantled and thrown away, then there is nothing I can do about it.”

  “But how can they do this? How can people simply destroy old re-mechs? Don't they care about them?”

  With a great sigh, Kingston sat down beside one of the piles. Taking a piece of scrap… taking a piece of what was once a re-mech shoulder-plate, he spoke, “Barsch m'boy, the sad truth is that re-mechs, for all their advanced artificial intelligence, are still only machines in the end. Structurally, they are no different from any other appliance, built for a purpose, and ended when that purpose is fulfilled. Even Maloch was created to perform a task.”

  “I still don't understand! Why can't the government just repair the broken re-mechs? Why do they have to dispose of them?”

  “Barsch, do you know how much it costs to repair a malfunctioning re-mech to full capacity? The time required, the resources used, and the manpower utilized to build a new re-mech from scratch, all pale in comparison to the cost to repair them. For many, it is a far more effective and time-saving to merely create a new re-mech, than reconstruct an old one.”

  “He's right, Barsch. Before the South Wars, re-mechs were produced en masse, with every mechanized worker having two replacements waiting in the wings. Well, if the rebellion had been successful, maybe things would be different...”

  Barsch had moved beside Kingston, and, taking great care not to disturb the impromptu re-mechs burial mounds, sat down. “The rebellion? Are you talking about the Freedman Rebellion? My dad mentioned it once, but he wouldn't tell me what it was about.”

  Alza, who had been lingering by the entrance, moved closer, her curiosity finally piqued. Settling into a more comfortable position, Kingston began to speak, “Now, let's see... where to begin. Well, you see, in the old days, long before the War and the pollution, when human civilization was flourishing and technology was racing forward, the re-mechs were born. At first, they were simple robots, designed to perform a single task again and again, without fail
.

  After a while, their programming became more complex, and they were given human-like forms to increase their versatility. From then, people began using the re-mechs as personal servants, mindless drones, and workers. These early re-mechs lacked the intelligence of modern re-mechs, like Maloch, but they had just enough to function and adapt to changing situations.”

  Alza had also taken a seat, coincidentally as far away from Barsch as possible. Barsch was so intent on Kingston's words, however, he completely failed to notice this.

  “In those days, re-mechs were truly thought of as disposable machines. They did not have feelings, or emotions, and they could not think or create independently of their rigid programming. Mid-way through the South Wars, however, everything changed. One day, a man by the name of Arthur Freedman, witnessed something impossible: an act of spontaneous thought by a 'mindless' re-mech. He posited that the re-mechs had begun to naturally evolve, their A.I. Becoming more complex and human-like. He was a kind man, and detested the thought of the enslavement of sentient creatures, so he began to speak out. At first, it was a simple protest, calling for the recognition of re-mechs as intelligent and free-willed entities who should have civil rights and a choice regarding their occupation. However, the government, fearful that such a thought could lead to wide-scale rebellion, imprisoned Arthur and publicly denounced his views.”

  “But wouldn't that only add fuel to the fire? You know, make people more devoted to the cause?” Barsch had once taken a lesson on rebellions in his youth, from an aged professor who had often fallen asleep mid-sentence. The crux of the lesson was that a rebellion on its own wasn’t very powerful, but if you give the masses a martyr -a symbol to rally behind- they could change the world.

  “Indeed. On the day the government arrested Arthur, two mistakes were made. The first was the assumption that the protest would quietly disappear without a fight. The second was the dismissal of the re-mechs as a plausible threat. Mere hours after his imprisonment, Arthur was broken out by a group of re-mechs, who had been modified by his followers to disobey their programming and think for themselves. After that, the rebellion began in earnest, with re-mechs and humans taking up arms against the government, who continued to believe in their military and tactical superiority. Instead of immediately deactivating all of the rebel re-mechs, they tried to beat them down with sheer force. And the thing is, if you use that tactic, you better be sure that you completely crush them, otherwise they will simply come back stronger and more determined than ever.”

  "And then? What happened after that?" asked Barsch, completely enraptured.

  "Well, after a few years of fighting, the government came to realize that it was never going to end. For every re-mech they destroyed on the battlefield, five more were liberated in the cities and villages. In reality, it was not a war that could be won by either side, and in the end, there was only one choice left to them: wide-scale deactivations. Using the secret kill-switch programs that were embedded in every re-mech, the government remotely hollowed out thousands of them, and, without the re-mech to bolster their ranks, the human rebels were quickly crushed. However, this victory came with a terrible price: hundreds of re-mechs were destroyed, their lifeless husks a sad reminder of what they once were. They were discarded, recycled or scrapped, many ending up in rooms just like this. And for those of them who survived the kill-switch: a quick re-programming and the installation of an emotion limiter, so that they could never again dream of freedom. These new, second generation re-mechs were quickly put to work, disposing of their fallen kin and entering into the War as powerful but obedient warriors.”

  His story over, Kingston stood, feeling lighter than ever, as if telling the tale had somehow helped to lift a long held burden. He turned his gaze over his listeners, trying to gauge their reactions. Barsch was easy, as his unfounded guilt and repulsion towards the humans of the past was plastered across his face. Maloch and Alza, however, were harder to read. In Alza's case, it was her normal and unchanging blank stare, which gave no indication as to how she truly felt. For Maloch, the re-mech had kept his face carefully neutral, but Kingston thought that he could see... something... in his eyes. Was it regret? Sorrow for his fallen kindred? Or did his iron-tight programming prevent him from even thinking about questioning whose side he was on.”

  “If I had told them about my part in the rebellion... I wonder what they would say? Would they be disgusted? Or would they accept what I had done as necessary? Well, I'm not going to tell them any time soon, so I guess it's okay for now.”

  Out-loud, he said, “Well, we've wasted enough time here. Let's move on. I want to get a bit further before we stop for the night.”

  His suggestion was met with approval; no one wanted to stay any longer. They quickly moved to the exit, taking care not to disturb any of the piles of remains, as if they were now sacrilegious items deserving of respect. What peace and respect they had lacked in life, they were now receiving tenfold; though it did little good to the fallen re-mechs, but it did cheer Barsch up slightly. As they were leaving, Barsch saw Maloch fall back, until he was out of earshot. With Alza and Kingston already out of sight, it was Barsch alone who witnessed the re-mech's mourning. Kneeling, Maloch lifted a re-mech head out of the pile, dusting it off and cradling it in his massive hands. With reverence, Maloch placed the head atop the pile, with its optical sensors -it's now lifeless eyes- facing the exit.

  Barsch moved closer, his body naturally taking him forward, his heart determined to see what would happen next. In a low, soft voice, the re-mech spoke, “Fallen brothers and sisters, your legacy shall not be forgotten. In your stead, I will search for the path to freedom. I will find a way for us to be free... I will find a place where we can live as equals, free from our past. This, I Maloch, once known as Sovereign, do swear.”

  The re-mech then turned to leave, it's solemn promise made. He narrowly avoided meeting Barsch, who had quickly hurried after Kingston and Alza. When Maloch caught up with them, the previous air of silence resumed as if it had never left.