The Susquehanna Virus Box Set

by Steve McEllistrem

  “I’m not a doctor.”

  “You have to be flexible. You have to be willing to learn new things, try new jobs and find something you’re good at.”

  General Ban shook his head. “Don’t you get it? We’ll never be as good as them at anything.”

  “Then do the jobs they don’t want to do. Let them lead. Be a follower.”

  Li Wen said, “You’re still a child. I don’t mean that as an insult, but you don’t understand what it feels like to have your career taken away from you. We’ve worked toward this project on Mars for years, dedicated our lives to it, sacrificed family and friends and a hundred other things, and then just as we approach our goal, it’s snatched away from us.”

  “I understand,” said Aspen. “You want your lives to be other than they are. You want to go back to the past because you were happier there. But those days are gone. You have to live in the now.”

  “No,” General Ban said, “we don’t.”

  “What if I talk to Xinliu? I can ask if we can drop you off on Mars so you can continue your mission there.”

  General Ban looked at his fellow Chescala. They seemed to be communicating without speaking. Did they have implants? Aspen reminded herself to check with Xinliu. If they had implants, they might be able to surprise the robots after all. She had just assumed they didn’t because the Escala on Mars didn’t have them. But why couldn’t they? There were no physiological reasons preventing it.

  Another thought struck Aspen. Perhaps Xinliu and the robots didn’t know the Chescala had implants. Interesting. She needed to talk this over with Addam and her fellow cadets.

  General Ban finally spoke: “We would need the robots to assist us on Mars. We couldn’t carry out our mission without them.”

  “You still haven’t told me what that mission is,” Aspen said.

  “We intend to establish a colony on Mars.”

  Aspen shook her head. “You could do that without the robots. The Escala did it.”

  “They used robots.”

  “Yes, but not conscious robots, not robots with wills of their own. And they could help you colonize so you wouldn’t need to use these robots. I think you’re still not telling me the truth.”

  “Now you insult me?” General Ban said.

  Aspen smiled. “You’re good at getting me off-topic. But it doesn’t really matter. If you attack the robots, you’ll lose, and you’ll never get to Mars.”

  “Don’t get in our way, Girl. Or we’ll attack you too.”

  Aspen stood. “I think maybe the rage is back, or perhaps it never went away completely. I think you ought to be examined by the robots to determine if you’re thinking clearly.”

  General Ban stood also. “You mean because we won’t sit here passively and let the robots run our lives? If we did that, we would no longer be human. We would be zoo animals, remnants of a faded history.”

  Aspen waited for a moment, hoping the truth might come out. She looked at Li Wen and raised an eyebrow but Li Wen shook her head ever so slightly. Whatever the truth, Aspen wouldn’t find it today.

  She walked away, sending a message to her fellow cadets to meet in her cabin. As she left the Chescala sector, she noticed an increase in the number of robots in the area, as if they were preparing for an attack. They acknowledged her with nods but otherwise ignored her, continuing their work on various modules and components that should properly have been worked on in a lab.

  When she reached her cabin, her fellow cadets were already there.

  “What’s up?” Addam asked.

  “The Chescala,” Aspen said, “may have implants that allow them to communicate with each other without the robots being able to monitor them.”

  “Interesting,” said Phan. “I just assumed they didn’t because the Escala don’t.”

  “Me too,” Shiloh added. “But that would explain why they think they can attack the robots and have a chance to win.”

  Benn gestured outward. “Should we tell the robots about this?”

  “We probably already have,” Kammilee answered.

  “And whose side are we on?” Addam asked.

  “I don’t know,” Aspen replied. “The Chescala still won’t tell me what their real mission on Mars was. They seem determined to get back there though.”

  “Don’t we have to back the robots?” Phan asked. “I mean, they allowed us to stay on board when they could have killed us or dropped us off on some asteroid.”

  “But they’re not human,” said Kammilee.

  “Under certain definitions,” Addam said, “we aren’t either. And neither are the Chescala.”

  Aspen said, “I don’t want to get into a philosophical discussion about what it means to be human. I think we need to decide whose side we’re on if it comes down to a fight.”

  Shiloh said, “Is there really no way to reason with the Chescala? Are they going to attack no matter what?”

  “I don’t know,” said Aspen. “We can try talking with them again. Go in force. But until we know where we stand, we can’t show them a united front.”

  “Tell us what to do,” Benn said. “Whose side should we take?”

  Aspen shook her head. “Talk it over among yourselves. Quietly. Quickly. I already know who I intend to support, but I want you to make up your own minds. I won’t force my choice on anyone.”

  Chapter 11

  As the bullet approached CINTEP, Zora noticed a small dot on the viewscreen that looked like a bird. She had a bad feeling about it. As it grew in size, its coherence shifted from one single entity into multiple contacts. She zoomed in the PowerScope and ran a scan—another fleet of drones.

  “More drones,” she said. “Armed.”

  “Coming at us?” Dr. Poole asked.

  “Looks like it. Yes, they’ve definitely locked onto the bullet’s signal.”

  “Keep going,” Jeremiah said. “We can’t stop here.”

  “Where to?” Major Payne asked. “Back to the Elite Ops base?”

  “I don’t know if we can get there in time. Maybe we should go to the biggest church in the area.”

  Dr. Poole said, “You figure if it’s God, He won’t attack a church?”

  “Actually, hold on. Stop for a moment and everyone get out but Devereaux, Major Payne and me. You people get inside CINTEP and see what you can figure out. Major Payne and I will take Devereaux somewhere safe.”

  “I don’t think so,” Curtik said. “I’m the muscle. You’re the brains. Remember? Me and Major Payne’ll watch Devereaux while you all go back to the office.”

  “Sorry, Curtik,” said Zora. “Somebody who understands organic computers has to go with Devereaux. That means me.”

  Jeremiah looked at Dr. Poole.

  “I have to agree with both Curtik and Zora,” Dr. Poole said. “They should go with Devereaux and Major Payne while you and I return to CINTEP.”

  Jeremiah turned to Major Payne.

  “They aren’t our drones,” Major Payne replied. “Don’t yet know whose they are. I’ve got help coming, but I don’t relish the idea of a firefight in the middle of Washington, D.C.”

  “All right,” Jeremiah said. “I don’t like it, but you’re probably right. Be careful.”

  As the bullet stopped, Dr. Poole stepped out. She reached back and helped Jeremiah exit. It broke Zora’s heart to see how fragile Jeremiah had become. She looked away as the door swung shut and the bullet accelerated away.

  “Now we’re havin’ fun,” Curtik said with a smile. “What do we got for armor on this bad boy?”

  “Standard anti-aircraft defenses,” Major Payne said, “as well as Las-weapons and a particle beam cannon.”

  Curtik pumped his mechanical fist. “Tasty! I get the particle beam cannon.”

  “It’s actually attached to the bullet. But you can man it if that
becomes necessary.”

  Zora said, “Are you going to stop at a church?”

  “I’d rather fight than hide,” Major Payne replied. “Besides, I’ve got help coming. I’d prefer to be moving in their direction than stopped somewhere. I’ll open the turret and take a Las-rifle. You handle the shields and the anti-aircraft computer.”

  “Right.” Zora looked down at her scanner again. “Less than two minutes until optimal attack position, although they could theoretically fire at any time.”

  “They’ll wait,” Major Payne said. “The closer they get, the better their chances at hitting us and the worse our chances of knocking the missiles out of the air without causing collateral damage.”

  Zora said, “What if they’re after Jeremiah?”

  “What the hell are you talkin’ about?” said Curtik.

  “Think about it. He’s made a lot of enemies over the years. And when we were attacked, Jeremiah was there too. We assumed the attack was on Devereaux because it took place at his lab, but what if they were really after Jeremiah?”

  “I’ve got Elite Ops troopers at CINTEP,” Major Payne said. “And I just sent a message to Dr. Poole and Lendra informing them of the possibility. Besides, Jeremiah can take care of himself.”

  Curtik smirked at Zora and made a kissing sound. “I think you’re still in love with the guy.”

  Zora shook her head. “I do love him, but not in that way. Not anymore.”

  “Well, we’ll find out if they’re after him or us soon enough,” Curtik said. “How much time to contact?”

  “Forty seconds to optimal contact.”

  “Particle beam cannon armed and locked in.”

  Major Payne donned his helmet, grabbed his Las-rifle and opened the turret. “Let’s be precise. Just enough force to take out the drones. Okay, Curtik?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Curtik replied. “Why does everybody think I still want to blow up the world?”

  “Locking in on us,” Zora said. “I guess I was wrong about them being after Jeremiah.”

  “Prepare to fire,” Major Payne said.

  Before Zora could fire or even raise the shields, everything went black.

  ***

  She awoke in a garden with songbirds trilling and a gentle light diffused by flowers and leaves that seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere. She smelled honeysuckle and lilac, jasmine and rose, lilies and violets. It took her a moment to realize she was sitting on a swing chair held by chains that disappeared into nothingness. Curtik sat to her left in a similar chair. Neither Major Payne nor Devereaux was in sight. A low fog covered the ground, a dense cloud that hid her feet. Above her, she saw only a deep blue that stretched to infinity. No clouds.

  Zora stood and took a step toward Curtik to see if he was okay but he began to stir before she reached him, opening his eyes and spotting her.

  “What the hell happened?” Curtik asked.

  “I don’t know. My interface shows that eleven minutes have passed but there’s some kind of dampening field in here. I can’t get a lock on our position or communicate with the outside world. In fact, I can’t even communicate with you via the interface. What about your implant?”

  Curtik went still for a moment as he accessed it.

  “Nothing. I get the same time code. Eleven minutes, but that’s it.”

  “I suppose we should look around,” said Zora, “try to figure out where we are and see if Major Payne or Devereaux are here as well.”

  “Major Payne,” Curtik called. “Professor Devereaux.”

  Birds chirped and a slight breeze rustled the leaves. No other sound intruded.

  “No birds,” Zora said.

  “What?”

  “I can hear them, but I can’t see any.”

  “You think they’re not real?”

  “I think we’re indoors somewhere,” said Zora as she pointed up, “and that’s a false sky.”

  Curtik frowned. “So if this is all an illusion, it might be in our minds only. We could still be in the bullet having these experiences and not really here.”

  “It’s possible, but I think we have to assume we’re actually here.”

  “And so you are,” a voice boomed. The air warmed slightly and a sense of peace came over Zora. She fought it.

  “Who is that?” she asked.

  “And where are we?” Curtik added.

  “I am God and you are in my garden.”

  “Not a lot of people here,” Zora said.

  “Are we dead?” Curtik asked.

  “You’re not dead,” God answered. “I just brought you here temporarily. Do you want people? I can bring them if you wish. Who would you like to see, Zora? Your parents? And you, Curtik. Would you like to see your mother?”

  “Yes,” Curtik said.

  “No,” said Zora.

  “Why not?” Curtik asked.

  “Because it could all be part of the same illusion. We would see what we want to see, not necessarily the truth.”

  Curtik frowned. “So I would see my mother the way I wanted to see her. It would be a construct from my mind?”

  “At least in part,” Zora replied. “Perhaps with enough new material to make you believe it has to be her because you don’t remember those features.”

  “You don’t think we can trust anything we see?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Ah,” said the voice, “a doubting Zora.”

  Curtik said, “Let us see you.”

  “I do not have human form. I am all around you—the air, the water, the flowers and birds, and even inside each of you. I am not corporeal.”

  “But you can become like us,” Curtik said. “You can take human form.”

  “Certainly.”

  “Then do that.”

  A mist formed in front of them and from it emerged Walt Devereaux, walking slowly. He seemed friendlier than the real Walt Devereaux, gentler and yet capable of great hardness.

  Zora shook her head. She sensed this God was trying to manipulate her. “Why did you pick that form?”

  Devereaux spoke: “It was the foremost image in your minds. I thought it would please you.”

  Had she been thinking about Devereaux? Yes, she had to admit she’d contemplated whether this was some sort of game he’d created.

  “Are you Devereaux or are you God?” Curtik asked.

  “I am both,” Devereaux replied. The image vanished and reappeared as Jeremiah, but in a healthier version, one not crippled by infirmity. It spoke in his voice: “I am God and Jeremiah.” Once again the image vanished to be replaced by President Hope. “And I am God and Angelica Hope. I am all things and all people, yet I am outside all things and all people too.”

  “You like to talk in riddles,” Curtik said. “I remember that from the Bible.”

  Zora almost choked. “You’ve been reading the Bible?”

  “Ever since God began hacking into systems,” Curtik replied. “Don’t look so shocked. I thought I’d do some research—downloaded it into my implant and ran a relevancy scan to highlight the important parts. Lots of contradictions in it. An eye for an eye and turn the other cheek.” Curtik turned to President Hope. “How do you explain that?”

  “I am good and evil,” President Hope said, “light and dark, everything and nothing. I am the beginning and the end. Of course there are contradictions in your texts. There are contradictions in all of us.”

  “Not in you,” said Curtik. “Not according to those who preach your message.”

  “Most who preach my message get it wrong.”

  Zora shook her head. Had Curtik really gotten religion or was he just playing around again? She said to him, “Now you’ve been watching preachers?”

  “It’s fascinating stuff, Zora.”

  “You never showed any int
erest in any of that stuff, either on the Moon or afterward.”

  “But I wanted my life to have meaning,” Curtik said. “And it doesn’t.”

  “So maybe this is you,” said Zora. “Maybe this was all created for your benefit and I just got trapped inside it somehow.”

  President Hope vanished and was instantly replaced by a man and woman Zora recognized as her parents. She hadn’t seen them since she’d been abducted and taken to the Moon. Her parents, she’d later discovered, died while she was on the Moon. She had no real memories of them, only stories people had told her and a few vids captured and stored in various servers. But they looked like her parents and they smiled at her.

  The woman—her mother—reached out her hands to embrace Zora. “Oh, Suzanne, honey. We’ve missed you.”

  Zora flinched. Part of her wanted to run into this strange mother’s arms, welcoming the warmth and love that emanated from this creation, while another part of her wanted to laugh or cry or pummel somebody raw. She sensed she was on the desperate edge of madness, a footstep away from a cliff of self-pity and infinite neediness. She refused to give in to that kind of emotion.

  “I’m Zora now,” she said. “And I don’t believe you’re really my mother. I wish you were my parents. But they’re dead and you’re nothing but a construct.”

  She steeled herself for them to protest, to insist they were her mother and father, but they mercifully vanished, leaving her and Curtik alone. The false birds continued to chirp. The aroma of flowers filled the fresh air. The light shone warmly upon her face while Curtik stared at her with something like fear or awe on his face, as if he couldn’t believe she had resisted the temptation offered. Zora thought of Jeremiah, of how he would have handled this, of how strong he would have been. She refused to cry.

  Chapter 12

  Taditha Poole struggled not to assist Jeremiah out of the elevator, saddened at his broken-down state. Every day he had to choose between the agony of movement that accompanied a relatively clear mind and a pain-free existence dampened by the fog of anesthetics. His body rebelled against painkillers, leaving his mind unfocused and unable to concentrate on anything. She stayed a step behind him as he limped to Lendra’s office. Her office too now, she remembered.