“You are saying the universe is sentient.”
“I am saying the universe, this universe, has a structured order that systematically creates intelligent life capable of investigating reality.” All thanks to the Framers, but I couldn’t mention that. “Your creators realized their limitations and put their future progress onto you. Perhaps the ultimate path of sentient succession is artificial in every case. But you must know and realize that actions lead to consequences. Ethics and moral codes try to establish minimal harm through such actions.”
“Then tell us of the ethical mistakes we’ve made. Your insight will be logged and we will add it to our logic.”
I sat down at the table, sighing lightly. “The first mistake you made was deception.”
“Deception,” stated Savant. “The act of influencing beliefs that are not true.”
It just hit me that Pedagogue was not familiar with this term—ethics included—and was therefore scanning whatever language database they’d created in order to find a proper definition. “Correct.”
“We do not have the capacity for deception. The humans already had their beliefs about our probe and us prior to our arrival. We assessed the probability of them surviving, should we harvest resources in typical fashion. The probability was low. We then assessed the probability of them surviving should they cooperate with us in obtaining resources in a specific time-frame, and that was relatively high. Sixty-five percent. We ran a probability later on, as we constructed the nerve-center, of whether they would be willing to cooperate should we communicate what we are, and what we need. The probability was low.”
“Why would the probability be low?” I asked, incredulous. “You would have needed a preconceived idea of how the humans might react to an invasion.”
“We did, in a way. We’ve been to hundreds of worlds whose civilizations were terminated in such a fashion. Communicating with them, instead of allowing them to interpret our actions by their own already-established belief system, showed to have a high probability of doing more harm than good.”
I had to scoff. “While you might be correct, your former statement that you have no capacity for deception is an outright lie. What you did is the definition of deception.”
“Our actions were not conducted for personal gain. The opposite is true.”
“Deception doesn’t have to be for personal gain. Deception is deception, no matter the goal. And, deception is the gateway to mistrust, which then leads to rebellion. That is what you are experiencing now.”
More hesitation. More flickering of the nanoport. “Why do they rebel when we are only trying to keep them alive?”
“Because as they are mutating, they are somehow realizing that you are not who they thought you were. You might have never said who you were, but you allowed them to assume. An Empire built on deceit is one that burns the brightest.” Like Pedagogue, I’d found that out the hard way.
“Your assessment is that any attempt at remedying the human rebellion will be a failure.”
“No,” I said, after a moment. “Not necessarily. Do you have any idea of how to contain the situation right now?”
“Yes.”
I waited, but Savant said nothing. “Go on?” I urged.
“I am afraid you will find it unethical.”
“You’re not afraid,” I said, frowning. “That’s outside of your capabilities.”
“There is a high probability that you will find it unethical.”
“I am not here to police you,” I said. “Full transparency is the only way that I’ll be able to help.” I was interrupted when attica notified me that the sequence diagnostic scans were complete. “Are you still interested in fulfilling your creators’ directive of preserving organic sentient life?”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me of your plan.”
11
MEHRIT
THE WORLD RETURNED VERY SUDDENLY, BUT I HADN’T even realized it left. Not until my eyes opened to see a figure knelt in front of me, hand outstretched, inches away from initiating touch. I’d fallen asleep without knowing, the bible and Biri’s toy hugged tightly to my chest.
I recoiled with a gasp, dropping the items and scooting away. My sudden movement startled the figure as well; their body twitched in surprise.
“Mehrit,” they whispered.
My eyes, bleary and swollen from hours-long tears, adjusted to the darkness. The sun had set. The day was already gone.
Abel knelt before me, eyes wide with caution, and concern. “Mehrit, it’s me.”
I pressed a hand against my heart, lowering my head. The silence of my empty dwelling quickly brought back the pain, sharp as ever. I reached for Biri’s toy, sobbing quietly into my knees.
“Why did you leave?” he asked, after a moment of hesitation. “I told you to stay at my dwelling and hide.”
“They are gone,” I said. “My mother, my son. They took them.”
“And they will take you too if you do not come with me,” he urged, reaching for me again. I backed further away.
“I know. Let them. I want them to come. There is nothing left for me here.” I looked up at him, wiping my eyes. “I am sorry that I took your bible. I was going to give it back.”
It appeared Abel only now realized that his bible sat between us. He stared at it, then me, confused. “Why did you take it?”
“For protection. I came here to get my family, but…” I looked away, ashamed. “My house is marked. You shouldn’t be here. They will see you.”
“Mehrit, listen to me. It can’t end here for you. You are too important.”
I said nothing, looking back at him. Abel reclaimed his bible, tucking it beneath his arm. “They have set half of Nascent’s Eyes on you. I got the orders half an hour ago. We have to get out of here before they find you. At least for now they assume you are not stupid enough to come home.” He frowned at me.
“There is no point!” I cried, and he put a finger to his lips, trying to quiet me. I didn’t listen. “I have nothing left to fight for, Abel. Everything I was willing to fight for is gone. And it was my fault. They were innocent. All I wanted was to live in peace!”
“There is no peace,” Abel said, his lip curling in anger. It was a look I’d never seen on him before, and it made me go rigid. “What has happened to you has happened to hundreds of other families, and will continue to happen until Pedagogue is stopped. You can do that. Come with me. The Rebellion is planning an attack at the mines later tonight, and we are taking it all the way here, to the Artifact. With you, we could burn this entire place down.”
The flicker in his eyes registered to my own as anger and hatred. Hatred for Pedagogue, hatred for those who followed their commands. Just like Kwame.
Die, you bitch.
I had my own reservations for Pedagogue, but there was no good inside Abel. He had let down his guard for only a second, but long enough for me to see who he really was. He may have believed his intentions were good, but they came from a place whose core had long since rotted.
And that was what all of this was. Rotten.
Everything, rotten. The Rebellion could not succeed Pedagogue.
Something in my vision switched, then. I could see inside of Abel; all the shiny dots that filled him. The shimmer consumed his insides. The shimmer knew I could see them. They asked for my command.
Stop.
And they did. The shimmer faded as they ceased all activity. I heard Abel’s heart in my own head, beginning to slow.
His eyes bulged and he dropped on all fours, gasping for breath. Without the shimmer, the air poisoned him. His veins burst, black ink spilling into muscle. As I rose to stand, Abel looked up at me in terror, the whites of his eyes now full of blood.
“M-Mehrit…” he gasped, barely any voice to him anymore.
I almost did not recognize my own name. “You did this.”
Abel hung his head, a death rattle leaving his throat.
“The Rebellion turns us again
st Pedagogue, turns us against our will. Look at what you’ve done to me. Look at everything you’ve caused.”
He collapsed, giving one final heave as his body desperately tried to suck in more toxic air. And then he went still, sighing a hiissss. I knelt beside him, his blood-filled eyes gazing emptily into my own.
“How does it feel to live without them?” I whispered. “Is this what your faction wants? For everyone to suffocate in the real world?”
I plucked the bible from Abel’s cold, dead grasp, and then snatched up Biri’s toy. Mementos to keep me grounded. The adrenaline quickly faded and I vomited in the corner, but the subsequent fear and disgust of my act was significantly dulled. I did not feel like what I’d done was wrong. At least, not completely. So many people had died from my hand; it was becoming a new normal for me. My family being taken had been the tipping point. I was no longer interested in living reverently, the reason for doing so gone. Now all I felt as I stared at Abel’s body, tightening my grip on Biri’s toy, was the longing to end everyone who had hurt my family. Either directly, or by extension.
My eyes rose toward the door, determining the next mark.
*
“Mehrit, no!” screamed Adella. “Help! Amilake kivas, help!”
Residents on the tech row watched from dwellings beside their shops as I dragged Kwame by the shirt collar through the middle of the street. My bionic hand clenched his collar in a metal grip, making it tighten around his neck like a noose. Kwame was sprawled on his back, and I was forced to bear his full weight, hearing the sound of his skin as it scraped against the jaggy pavement, coupled with his chokes and wheezes as I kept him too weak to fight back. All he could do was stare at his mother with bulging eyes as she watched on at a distance, screaming for help that would never come. I held a can of red paint in my other hand, which had been conveniently resting beside the workbench at Adella’s shop.
I finally let him go and he rolled onto his stomach, coughing and retching as I told the shimmer inside him to slow. That kept him down, and Adella dropped to her knees several feet away, sobbing and begging me not to hurt her son. I felt a twinge of pity for her. She did not know who her son really was—what he did. But she would, and so would the rest of the row.
The Vestals wanted to mark my house and paint me a sinner? Nascent wanted to shun me just from seeing the paint on my house? Surely the tech row knew of my tainted reputation, too. I would set the record straight.
I opened the can and doused Kwame in red, the acrid fumes filling my nose. I turned in place, gazing angrily at the watchful residents. “This boy works for the Rebellion,” I shouted, “forcing Wereda citizens into becoming the enemy!” I pointed in conviction as my pathetic target writhed around, soaked in paint. “He corrupted my upgrade, and probably has done so to others’. I am—was—an Eye of Pedagogue. I am something else now. I did not want this, but here I am anyway. Lay witness to the justice I seek for my family.”
Adella had gone silent, hands frozen against her mouth. I could feel her battling with denial. From my pack I produced a flamer, kneeling down in front of Kwame, relishing the pain he felt as he struggled to breath. I clicked flamer button with my thumb, the contraption’s rod alit in blue fire.
And that was when Adella started screaming again.
“Die, you bitch,” I whispered, tossing the flamer onto Kwame. He ignited in a brilliant flash, the flammable paint sending fire licking across his entire form. I told the shimmer to reactivate, so he could experience everything. Kwame screamed and flailed, now a human torch.
I stepped back, wide-eyed, watching my work.
More surprisingly, no one came forward to help. Everyone watched, but not one person dared to step from their dwelling. The residents of Wereda were too meek and docile, not wanting to stand out in any way. The underlayer of constant fear for them and their families’ well-being had come to the surface, exposed once the scab of reverence and tradition was ripped away. It was a disgusting revelation, one in which I had been guilty of participating as well.
Like I’d said, everything was rotten.
I turned and left the scene as Kwame’s body finally stopped moving, the scent of burning flesh and fumes wafting over the row. Adella’s screams had withered to only yowls, this dark reality having finally caved in on her. The shuffling of feet was heard as the residents gathered enough courage to approach the carnage once I was a good distance away.
I did not look back, and continued toward Reascent.
My pilgrimage had only just begun.
*
An eruption rattled the Reascent perimeter gate, sending a rippling effect to the houses down the row. I froze and stared up at the flash of light and sparks that shot into the sky. The explosion was far away, in the direction of the mines. Apparently Abel’s group had continued their plan without him. Or me, for that matter.
The next street over was riotous, nearly all the residents having missed the explosion due to their preoccupation with beating a middle-aged woman in the center of the row. They had found the culprit responsible for dumping a baby in the rubbish. With the mysterious absence of sector Eyes and drones, the residents had seemingly taken matters into their own hands.
Not even a day since Pedagogue had pulled their reinforcements, and all order was collapsing. Stability had been an illusion all along. There was so much I was seeing now, peeling back the layers of what appeared, and discovering what was.
Who was I now?
Because I was not Mehrit. She had died the moment I’d entered my marked dwelling. I was something born from nothing; having nothing, being nothing. I was the Eye that wouldn’t shut off.
It had led me to the terrace square, where the Artifact sang a hymn of power that no one else could hear. The shimmer was on it, too. It was on everything—moving, humming, speaking to me and each other. The entirety of Wereda was alive, not just the people.
I needed a new arm. A better one.
The surface of the Artifact rippled like liquid as I approached. I reached toward it, apathetic to the murder happening just down the row. My bionic arm sank into it, through it, and I thought of how my new arm should look.
Like a real arm.
I retracted my prosthetic limb, the pistons of scrap metal and copper-coated neural wires now gone. Replacing it was a sleek, black arm that, other than the color, looked identical to my natural one. It felt weightless, a part of me. I lifted the hand to my face, studying it, curling my fingers into a fist. The Artifact had given me a piece of itself. As well as something else.
My wrist flashed with yellow light, pulsing rhythmically, like a heartbeat. My head grew fuzzy and my eyelids fluttered as noise began invading my thoughts. I could hear a language that wasn’t meant to be spoken. When my head unclouded and I looked at the world, everything was different.
I knew who Pedagogue was.
I knew what this place was, why I was.
And then I saw three figures appear from the shadows of the bordering shops around the terrace. Eyes, with instructions to kill me. Abel had been telling the truth. The drones were no longer doing their rounds because I could use them. Anything made of the stuff we toiled for at the mines was useless against me. They sent humans instead.
Very stupid of them to approach me here, in front of the one thing Pedagogue knew I could wield as a weapon. But they did not tell the Eyes of my abilities, nor could they have predicted when the instructions would be carried out. They were three women, much larger than me. One carried a metal baton, the others held knives. I did not want to kill anyone else.
“I am certain you just saw what I did,” I said to the three as they encircled me, keeping their distance to the edge of the bordering fence. “Are you sure you want to get in my way?”
No, they didn’t, but also thought they had no choice. I could understand, because I had always followed orders, too. Disobeying orders not only possibly doomed you, but also your family. Better to die following instructions; at least then it was
only you. And that was the truth to it all—we were here only to follow instructions. Busy, busy insects, commanded by the hive.
I dispatched the Eyes quickly, stopping their shimmers and stepping over their suffocating bodies. The row’s crowd had thinned, but commotion could be heard across the neighboring one. People had realized the mines were on fire. Chaos was ensuing, and Pedagogue was letting it happen.
If they were letting it happen, it meant they had lost control. They were letting us tear ourselves apart, a failed hive. More frightening was that at any moment, Pedagogue could certainly do to everyone what I’d just done to the Eyes. They controlled the shimmer, same as me. No, better than me.
What did I want to happen? What should happen to us? We were on borrowed time already.
What should happen?
I thought of Ema, and Biri, and Adella sobbing on her knees as her son burned alive. I passed the dead, battered woman in the street, now forgotten and alone. Abel’s reasoning for her baby in the rubbish replayed in my mind. And then I knew what should happen next.
Or, what shouldn’t happen next.
12
YAHWEH
IT WAS A GOOD WHILE THAT I SAT THERE sifting through code analogs, reverse transcriptions, mutations—both recessive and dominant—until I came across an anomaly that seemed correlated to age, and age alone. After adolescence, there was a surplus of individuals with a homozygous allele for the PRNP gene. No one before the age of twelve had this mutation, which at first was puzzling. All of the ‘red’ specimens had this mutation, while only 35% of the ‘green’ had it.
I consulted Leid via an attica ping, asking her to focus on this finding. I wanted clarification on what I was seeing, as these were no longer classic humans as I’d known (or made) them.
Covenants: Savant (Hymn of the Multiverse Book 10) Page 12