Cabal of Lies

by Michael Anderle

  Erik thought for a moment before he nodded. “I might not have been when I first got here, but the local CID and even the Shadow Zone EZs aren’t what they once were. They’ll get things cleaned up without us.” He let out a low chuckle. “And we already made a raid. Most of those guys who went after Alicia at the Big One didn’t make it out of there alive, and the ones who did ended up in the hospital. That means fewer guys to shoot at cops or CID agents.”

  “Is it weird that it feels so unreal?” Jia asked. She stood and licked her lips, sudden nervous energy compelling her to move to the edge of her desk and sit.

  He pursed his lips. “Unreal? I’m not following you.”

  Jia entered some commands on her PNIU. A data window with a calendar popped up.

  “The calendar’s unreal?” Erik stared at it with a confused expression before looking back at his partner. “What’s special about it?”

  “A year ago, I had driven away two partners, and my first captain was desperate to run me off. Even if I didn’t appreciate it, Neo SoCal was infested with syndicates and the corrupt businessmen and politicians in a symbiotic relationship with them.” Jia furrowed her brow, her expression darkening. “I know a lot of the corruption is still there, that we’ve driven it underground instead of eliminating it, but it still feels like we’ve made a difference, and that’s what crazy. I know we didn’t do it all ourselves, but we were a catalyst.”

  Erik nodded. “Nothing wrong with taking a victory lap. You see this in war, too—morale and momentum. A few brave soldiers can help hold a unit together when it’s being overwhelmed. They can turn the tide of battle. Yeah, those few brave soldiers aren’t doing all the fighting by themselves, but they infect everyone else with their bravery.”

  Jia’s mouth quirked into a smile. “Is that what Lady Justice Syndrome is? Bravery?”

  Erik grinned. “It’s more a crazy obsession and a stubborn refusal to quit.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Victor thrust his fist into the air, pumping it with fervor as he yelled his opinion to everyone nearby whether they wanted to hear it or not. “Keep humanity pure!” he chanted. “Remember our roots. Remember our perfect form that is in harmony with nature.”

  A dozen of his fellow protestors stood near him, chanting as well. Their drone circled them, recording their protest.

  If the media abdicated their responsibility to relay important news about those doing their best to protect the sacred purity of humanity, individuals needed to take it upon themselves and pass that information along to the net.

  A small crowd of curious people had gathered to watch them, many snickering and filming the protest as well.

  Victor didn’t mind. They might think it was a joke, but all they were doing was amplifying his message, especially with the holographic banners flowing above his group. Most people didn’t fully appreciate the importance of what people like him were willing to do.

  It didn’t matter. Knowing he was doing his part to save humanity kept him going each day.

  “Keep humanity pure!” he shouted once more, glancing past the crowd at the two security guards standing in front of the entrance to the research lab.

  They both held stun rods and watched the Purist protesters with narrowed eyes.

  Victor held up a hand, and the crowd stopped chanting. “Humanity learned during the Summer of Sorrow that those who would replace the pure strain of humans are monstrous at heart,” he shouted. “We of the Friends of Purity understand that existing laws are insufficient to protect our species. Government regulation and oversight don’t go far enough. It’s time for direct action, not just in Neo SoCal and not just on Earth, but in the entire UTC.”

  “Keep humanity pure!” chanted the protesters. “Keep humanity human! To leave behind the human body is to leave behind what makes us human!”

  “What’s the big deal?” shouted someone from the watching crowd. “Stuff that’s over the line gets people in trouble anyway, just like those people making yaoguai a while back. They got the cops and Militia on their asses.”

  Victor laughed. “Don’t you understand? Those yaoguai were birthed beneath your feet. Monsters from nightmares. The existing laws didn’t stop it. A changeling mocked you all by performing as if she were a normal human. That is how degenerate the UTC has become.”

  “Keep humanity pure!” repeated the protesters. “Keep humanity human. To leave behind the human body is to leave behind what makes us human.”

  The other man frowned. “You talking about Rena? I’m not saying it’s okay they mixed up her genes, but she’s not a monster. She didn’t even get a choice. I feel sorry for the kid!”

  “No!” Victor bellowed back. “That is the problem. That is why the regulations are failing. We have to have zero tolerance for any who deviates from nature’s plan. Humans don’t need to be improved. We don’t need genetic engineering. We don’t need cybernetics.” He thrust his arm toward the lab. “And to achieve that, we must have zero tolerance toward all who aren’t pure and all who might help them become impure. This lab is engaged in genetic research, including modifying organisms for terraforming. They would change entire worlds from their natural state, but it won’t be long before they start trying to justify more changes to people to live on those worlds. It’s already started; check the net. Look at some of the lobbyists trying to add special provisions to existing anti-genetic engineering laws.”

  “I don’t know about that other stuff, but isn’t terraforming a good thing, even if they use custom bugs?” The other man shrugged. “How are they going to make planets more like Earth without that kind of thing? People have to go somewhere.”

  “Humans have no business living anywhere but places they can already survive,” Victor thundered. “The path to becoming monsters begins by thinking any alteration to nature’s plan is acceptable.”

  The man scoffed. “Look, pal. I’m all for Purism, but what you are saying is just nuts. We need the colonies. You want to give them up to the aliens? If we sat on Earth, we’d end up surrounded by a bunch of alien colonies. How is that Purist?”

  “You don’t understand.” Victor cut through the air with a hand. “Most Purists don’t go far enough, but we of the Friends of Purity understand the poison that has infected this society. Are you going to just stand there and let more monsters be born beneath your city? Are you going to stand by while changelings walk among us, pretending to be people rather than twisted creatures born in labs? We must unite against the impure!”

  The other man rolled his eyes and waved dismissively. “You’re nuts. Get a job, freak.” He shook his head in disgust and walked away. “We should ship you to the frontier to be raptor food.”

  “You’re a traitor to your species,” Victor shouted, shaking his fist. He stomped toward the man, spun him around, and spat in his face. “Traitors deserve no mercy.”

  “What the hell?” The man’s eyes widened. He pushed Victor. “Get off me, you freak, before I call the cops on you.”

  “All who turn their backs on their species are an enemy of their species!”

  Shouts and screams came from behind Victor, and he spun. Half the protesters lay on the ground twitching. The security guards stood above them, grins on their faces and their stun rods in hand. Several of the other protesters ran, only to get stun rods in the back for their trouble.

  Victor growled and charged the guards. “We’re on the right side of history, and you—”

  A guard smashed the stun rod into Victor’s stomach. His muscles seized, and he fell to his knees before vomiting. The guard cracked the rod over his head and laughed as Victor fell, his head scraping the hard surface of the parking platform.

  The guard sneered. “Thanks for touching that guy, you misguided anarchist. You finally gave us an excuse to take you down.”

  Malcolm whistled to himself with a smile. He stared at a data window, rapidly switching images with a flick of his wrist. Different flowers filled each data window.

>   They weren’t for him, but for Camila.

  She probably liked flowers. At least, he hoped so. He still hadn’t asked her out, but he had convinced himself that was okay by adjusting his strategy.

  Once he finished planning the perfect date, he would ask her out. That way, he had frontloaded all the stress. Even if she said no, it’d be easy to walk away. It was a brilliant plan, or at least a great excuse to stall and not risk being turned down. Erik had been too busy with everything else going on to harass him about it, too.

  That helped.

  His office door slid open, and the dark-haired woman in his thoughts stepped in, her hands in the pockets of her lab jacket. “I need to talk to you, Malcolm. Fortunately, unlike many people, you’re a very easy man to find.”

  Malcolm managed to not jump out of his seat. With a quick slice of his hand, he dismissed the data windows with the flowers. “S-sure. Let’s talk. I’ve got some analyses running, but nothing that needs my attention at the moment.

  He forced an awkward smile. Why did he have to choose that day to wear his black and blue Day of the Dead Hawaiian shirt?

  It wasn’t a shirt that screamed romance.

  Camila must have been watching his eyes. Her gaze dipped to his shirt. “Interesting shirt. I like it. It’s got character. I like character.”

  Malcolm blinked. “You do?” He forced a suave smile, wondering if character was a transitive property from shirts to their owners. “Yeah, it’s one of my favorites. I wear it all the time.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear it before.” Camila smirked. “How do you define all the time?”

  Malcom sighed, shaking his head. “Yes, fine. I just bought it last week.”

  Camila waggled a finger. “There’s nothing wrong with lying. You just need to make sure you keep up with the lies, so you don’t embarrass yourself.”

  “You don’t think there’s anything wrong with lying?” He found himself fascinated rather than horrified.

  “Sometimes a lie for the right reason is the most moral thing you can do.”

  “I see.” Malcolm rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m better at keeping secrets than telling lies. I’ve always been about uncovering the lies and secrets rather than adding to them.”

  “A good lie is a thing of art when it’s necessary.” Camila smiled. “But enough with the lies.” She pointed at him. “I’ve got a simple question, and don’t lie.”

  Malcolm swallowed. “Yes?”

  “Do you like Thai food?”

  “Thai food?”

  His eyes were wide open. He looked like a deer caught in headlights of a vehicle about to splatter it. Well, at least one from the movies; he hadn’t seen one in real life.

  Camila nodded. “Yes, food from the culinary traditions of Thailand?” She leaned forward, her hands on her hips. “You’re not from a colony, right? You’re an Earther?”

  “Yes, sure,” Malcolm babbled. “I’m an Earther, and yeah, I know Thailand and Thai food.”

  “You didn’t answer the question.” She folded her arms and looked annoyed.

  “The question. Oh, yeah! The question. Do I like Thai food?”

  Camila nodded. “Hardly the stuff of deep philosophical challenge.”

  Malcolm blinked. What was happening? Wasn’t he supposed to be the one asking all this?

  “Uh, sure?” He shrugged. “I like Thai food.”

  “I know a place.” Camila made a pained face. “But I hate going to new places by myself. Why don’t we go there together?”

  “Like a date?” Malcolm asked.

  Camila tilted her head, her lips curving into a faint, amused smile. She stared at him with her dark, piercing eyes. “Labels are just that, labels. But sure, if you want to call it a date, that works for me.” She headed toward the door, chuckling. “But don’t think you’re going to get some just because we go out for Thai food.”

  “I didn’t think that.” Malcolm shook his head, confused. He almost asked if it was a possibility before thinking a bit further about that particular idiot idea.

  “I’ve got some non-Thai dates with a few dead bodies right now. I’ll send you a message, and we can figure out a good day.” Camila offered a final wave and stepped through the door.

  He watched the door shut and sat at his desk for a moment.

  “What just happened?” Malcolm mumbled. “And how did that happen?”

  Victor stumbled into his apartment, his jaw tight, and his body aching from the bruises that covered it. The traitors at the lab had disrupted their protest and destroyed the drone, but he still had the footage.

  People would understand the sacrifice the Friends of Purity were making and how they put their bodies on the line for an ungrateful species. This wasn’t some pointless, toothless labeling campaign, but a war against those who would turn their species into something disgusting.

  For all he knew, it was an alien plot.

  A familiar chime sounded on his PNIU, a secure communications app he’d been given. He tapped the device and waited. His refusal to wear smart lenses might make certain tasks more difficult, but every compromise on the road to transhumanism made the road to inhumanity shorter.

  “Good evening, Victor,” came an electronically distorted voice. “I just received a report about your protest and the beating you suffered.”

  Victor froze, his stomach knotting. He recognized the voice, even disguised, despite not knowing the man’s name. He was a member of the secretive Circle of Inner Friends, the men and women who controlled the Friends of Purity. The man was the only one who ever directly communicated with him.

  Victor was honored to have been chosen.

  “But I haven’t even uploaded the footage yet, sir.”

  “I have my own ways of figuring things out,” the man replied. “I’m not calling to complain. All of us in the Circle of Inner Friends are impressed with your involvement in our struggle and your bravery and commitment to the cause. It’s easy to speak words, Victor. It’s hard to suffer blows.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Victor moved over to his couch. He’d always hoped the Circle would recognize his dedication.

  “And now we need a man like you, Victor, a man who is willing to sacrifice anything to save his species from the enemies of humanity.”

  “I’m ready, sir,” Victor replied. “Just give me a mission.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Ilse tried offering something approaching a smile to Emma’s hologram across the table.

  She was about to take a grave risk. Colonel Adeyemi had made it clear he thought attempting to advance Emma’s stability too quickly might be a mistake.

  The AI wasn’t aware of just how much of her core personality and mind had been taken from a human. Ilse’s own early research indicated core matrix collapse would follow if Emma learned the truth, but Ilse couldn’t rely on the military, let alone all-but-rogue detectives to help her creation achieve her final form.

  Nothing else would matter if Ilse succeeded.

  Not only would the military be pleased, but Emma might have a chance at a long-lasting existence. All the effort, time, and pain would be worth it.

  Arguably, it would be the beginning of a better, safer UTC. Certain other logistical constraints would accompany any future where AIs like Emma were mass-produced, but that was an argument for another day. First, they needed to perfect the prototype.

  No one understood, only her.

  Adeyemi was like everyone else. Even most of her research assistants didn’t realize how potentially unstable Emma was.

  It was a miracle she hadn’t collapsed out in the field already, and Ilse decided the unique interaction between the AI and the detectives had temporarily stabilized her. If the situation changed, her life would be in danger.

  The military might care about integrating the AI with the prototype body, but this entire project had become something far more personal for Ilse.

  She tapped her PNIU. There would be an unfortu
nate data recording error as far as the records were concerned. Deceiving the military was almost trivial at times, but she often felt that some people were purposefully looking the other way, caring more about results than how she might have achieved them.

  Emma clucked her tongue. “That’s creepy, you know, Dr. Cavewoman.”

  “Creepy?” Ilse blinked. She looked over her shoulder. “It’s just a wall.” She ran her hand along the edge of the table. “This is just furniture. I’m fascinated that you find it unsettling. That’s unexpected.”

  “No. You don’t understand, but that’s not new.” Emma gestured to her. “Your tendency to zone out and say nothing for long periods is what’s creepy. It’s obvious to me you’re thinking deeply, but it’s unsettling. You’re like a machine that is stalling out.”

  Ilse considered the simile. She didn’t find it all that offensive.

  “Don’t you spend large portions of your day not talking?” she asked. “Why is what I did any different?”

  “What’s expected of me isn’t the same as what’s expected of you. And you’re odd, even for a human. You’re clever for a cavewoman, even if your lies by omission are obvious every time we talk.”

  Ilse slowly nodded. “Fascinating. Why do you feel I’m lying by omission?”

  “I’ve learned to read your face and moods. I’m not going to bother pressuring you for the truth. I’m sure you’ll generate some prattle about the uniform boys telling you you’re not allowed to give me too much information.” Emma stared at her. “Not that I care. Until the DD comes for me, it doesn’t matter what they know that I don’t.”

  “I see. Would you believe me if I told you that I’m not telling you certain things to protect you?”

  “I’m not a child. I’m not even human.” Emma frowned. “I don’t need to be protected, and I’ve made my position clear on what happens if the military comes for me. Given my vastly increased interface capabilities since I left the lab, it would be dangerous, even if I’m not in my preferred body. I will make people suffer if they attempt to take me by force.”