Immortality (81 page)

Mark felt a jolt and lost his focus. It was like an umbilical was severed. The kill zone was gone. His link with Sarah was gone. He panicked; then, sensed the kill zone farther out. As an invisible field of energy, the zone was starting down the road in Alexander’s direction. Mark could see its path outlined in an
assist
as the concentric circles accelerated along the roadmap.

“No!” moaned Sarah. “Not yet!”

The zone of death was following the highway. From edge to edge, it swept down the road tracking turns. Like a poisonous vapor, it flowed invisibly into the midst of Alexander’s army. Mark grabbed his binoculars and focused on the wolf pack of marauders. Nothing happened. They were still advancing at high speed. A few Humvees in the center went slowly off course and struck others. One of the lead Humvees turned sideways and was flipped by other Humvees, colliding with it from behind. Out of a center of increasing wreckage came an intense flash of orange-red light. A tanker had gone up. A moment later, the sound of a massive concussion reached them. Their Humvee rattled. He was watching a juggernaut of steel turning on its own kind and consuming itself. More explosions went off. The advance was scraping to a halt. The marauders had lost. Black smoke was obscuring Mark’s view. He climbed from the Humvee. Was Alexander dead? He connected with something and felt dark rage, frustration, and pain. Mark’s senses were slowly filled like an empty glass with Alexander’s perceptions of lying on the roadway. The man was injured. He believed Mark would be rummaging around in his memories and wanted to rip his own eyes out, to spite the Traitors and deprive them of gloating over him. Mark saw death all around. He smelled burning rubber and oil. He heard sounds of vehicles dying, and of men dying, and of Alexander’s shallow breathing from a massive pain in his chest.

“I’ll destroy you,” screamed Alexander. “I’ll destroy all of you plague-controlling traitors!”

The experience-flood ended. Mark reeled a bit from a kind of mental poisoning. He braced himself on the side of the Humvee until clarity returned. He had heard the scream in his mind, but he also thought, prior to that, he’d heard the actual cries of Alexander echoing down the rugged walls of sandstone and rock that lined the highway. Alexander’s entire army was destroyed, but the man lived on. He was so much like the ones he hated, thought Mark. Here was proof Alexander was more like
his traitors
than not. The kill zone had passed over him.

“Kill him. We can’t let him live!” said Sarah.

Alexander was at their mercy. Sarah wanted him dead. All they had to do was get in the Humvee, drive a few hundred yards to where the wreckage lay, and put some bullets in him. He was injured. Killing him would be easy.

“Enough murder has been done in this world,” said Mark. “I won’t add one more death to it. We take him prisoner.”

“You’re wrong,” said Sarah. “That’s defective thinking. If we let him live, he won’t give up. Some night he’ll escape, sneak in through your window, and slit yours and Kathy’s throats.”

“No more murder.”

“He’s guilty, convicted, and you can’t stop me from...”

Mark felt something happening. He turned toward the wreckage. Sarah stopped talking. She too was staring at the pile of twisted vehicles. The sun was setting. Its light had become a dusty haze which silhouetted objects more than illuminated them. A vague implanted memory surfaced in Mark. The memory was a deep pool of resignation and physical pain.

“He’s up to something,” said Sarah.

Mark heard a distinct click echo off the rock walls. What was that? A brilliant ball of light flared up, surrounding the wreckage like a sun of orange-white heat. An instant after the flare, a pressure wave of hot air and thunder knocked Mark and Sarah off their feet. Umph! Impact with the ground pounded the wind from his lungs.

The back of his skull felt sore where it had hit the pavement. His body was a single large bruise. Mark lifted himself into a seated position. He looked at Sarah. She was half standing. Her legs seemed shaky. A huge ball of smoke had risen into the air in the shape of a distorted mushroom. The pile of wreckage was gone, obliterated. Mark saw bits of it scattered on the expanse of road in front of him – a tire, an axle, small pieces of metal. An
assist
indicated the blast radius was five-hundred and forty-one feet in diameter.

“What was that?” asked Sarah.

“A madman’s last chance to kill,” said Mark.

Canyons

Daylight was shining in through open windows of the main house. There were sounds of hammers and saws coming from outbuildings being constructed or repaired. Kathy picked up a pen from the open spine of her journal and began writing. This was their new home, a deserted horse ranch nestled in the red stone canyons of Sedona. Over seventy percent of humanity was gone, or at least that was the most accurate number anyone had come up with. No kill zones had occurred since the one that destroyed Alexander’s army over two weeks ago. People around the country who had survived extinction were slowly rebuilding. Mark – he seemed to feel guilt, while everyone around him felt only gratitude. He was continuing to change. The transformation was affecting him in more intricate ways now. He was becoming both more pacifistic and more physically perfected. His skin was smoother and fairer. His freckles and moles were completely gone. The only thing that appeared out of place with what was going on inside him was his hair. It was turning a little grayer. She knew he might live forever with his body repaired and maintained by the nanotech swarm inside him. She would never allow herself to become what he had turned into. She would never be transformed into another Sarah. Even if she changed her mind and decided to cross that line, it might be impossible for her accomplish. She didn’t possess the same genetic predispositions. She was fearful of trying to invoke even the smallest commands to heal, out of concern that it might start some unintended chain reaction which couldn’t be controlled.

She knew Mark and Sarah would be together once she was gone. The thought was comfort and torment. She wanted to live forever. She didn’t want to lose him, but what he and Sarah had become was so alien. Maybe they were no longer even alive by normal measures. It was a terrible thought about the man she loved. But they were part-machine. The original biology of their brains was completely gone. Nanotech circuitry now did their thinking… and this was the future of mankind? What about their souls, their essence? Was it still inside those mechanical brains; or had it fled, leaving behind perfect computer imitations of what had once been human? When she looked into Mark’s eyes, she could still see the original man imprisoned within a shell of physical and mental perfection. Human life was filled with little rattles and squeaks. Life was not perfect, was never meant to be. A tear fell onto her page where she was writing. She tried to clean it, but only smeared the ink more.

The views of red stone formations and tree covered hills of Sedona were breathtaking. Ancient bands of Indians had lived in these canyons for thousands of years. Mark was sitting on the edge of a canyon looking down on the settlement his tribe was building. All the governments were gone. The remnants of power previously kept safe flying in jets had left the sky. Mark had seen one fall and could only explain it as suicide. All the industries were gone. All power generation was gone. All phone service was gone. There were rumors of warlords and sporadic fighting. Maybe some day soon that too would be gone.

Mark had done what he’d promised. He had led his small tribe of men and women to sanctuary. He was proud of his accomplishment, but in the darker corners of his soul he was filled with uncertainties and guilt. He still didn’t know if he and Sarah had created the kill zone that had destroyed Alexander’s army or if the god-machine had done it to protect them. With the absence of that knowledge, he was cast adrift in the wide expanses of gray between guilt and innocence. He was close to convinced they’d had some hand in directing the kill zone, and that implication alone was deeply troubling. If they could influence one kill zone, they might have had some part in controlling others or even causing them. He could never find peace until he knew if he’d played any part in the genocide. Were his hands covered in humanity’s blood? He’d searched for answers and found none. He’d combed the timeline recordings of history and found no solace. He knew many things no man had ever imagined and learned more every day. The knowledge had brought him wisdom, but not peace. He didn’t know if he was worthy of living among the people he had saved; and until he could answer that question, he could never feel he was a part of them. Why couldn’t he be more like Sarah? She felt no doubts or guilt over what she’d become or might have done.

The sun moved behind some clouds. In the distance, he saw shadows drifting across the rugged landscape. He looked at his arms and his hands. His skin was a single smooth tone except where the sun had reddened it. He knew from experience the sunburn would vanish within hours, without effect. Though his muscles had not increased in mass, he’d noticed today he was physically stronger and had more endurance than a week ago. He’d been able to climb the horse trail which led to this eight hundred foot summit, without stopping for rest.

Mark went back to shifting through memories he’d retained from the last data-flood. He wanted to understand why the god-machine had assisted both him and Alexander. The behavior was a contradiction; and from that discrepancy he hoped to find clues to understand if he’d had a role in the mass murdering. He saw how the god-machine was constructed to be neutral and didn’t help or hinder individuals, unless they threatened some part of its programmed goals. The machine appeared to serve all equally who could ask consciously or subconsciously. He wondered if the machine exerted control over him or Alexander. Did he have free will, or was the god-machine controlling him like some marionette hanging from subconscious strings? One thing was clear. Information from the god-machine had been leaking into his mind since he was born; and this to a greater or lesser extent was true for almost everyone. This leaking may have been the only influence the god-machine had on him, which was not at all the same as real control. Where did his mind end and the god-machine begin? Where was the boundary between independent thought and computer? Maybe the question was no longer answerable by him, now that his brain was a complete melding of nanotech and organic? Maybe there was no longer any difference? Maybe he was the machine?

Mark heard a horse walking up the trail. He reached out with his senses and recognized Kathy was nearing. An
assist
located her position on an aerial view and projected her arrival time. In one minute and twenty-four seconds, she came into view. She dismounted and sat down beside him. Her knee was troubling her. She was using a walking stick again. She picked up his hand and held it. Her touch was sometimes a salve that could drive his self-doubts away, leaving him with wonderful moments of peace. She kissed him on the cheek. He felt warmth inside, but a bittersweet feeling remained.

“Sarah came back from town,” said Kathy. “She said the people were friendly and willing to trade with us; but they don’t want us mixing with them.”

“So much misguided fear,” said Mark. “Funny, how everything can change and still nothing’s different.”

Kevin Bohacz is a novelist and a writer for national computer magazines as well as founder and president of an e-business consulting and software engineering company he founded in 1989, a scientist and engineer for over 28 years, and the inventor of an advanced electric car system, the ESE Engine System (circa 1978).

Born in 1957 in New York City, Kevin has lived in New York, California, Florida, Texas, Pennsylvania, Delaware, New Jersey and New Mexico. He can be currently sighted with his wife, Mazelle in one of their favorite cities in New Mexico, California, or Texas.

Other published novels:
Dream Dancers (Hays & Associates 1993) – Science fiction / fantasy

Other published works:
Various articles for national computer magazines including Smart Computing.

More information:
www.kbohacz.com

Human v2.0?
 

Human evolution has always been partially under our control. In the hundred generations of recorded history and millions of years before, we have been self-evolving by enhancing our bodies with technology. The first artificial gains occurred thirty thousand generations ago in prehistoric times when we improved upon our fists with stone tools and clubs. Ten thousand generations ago, sharpened flint and fire removed more physical limitations. In the Bronze Age, eighty generations ago, we enhanced our muscles with wheels and metal. Fifty generations ago we extended our arms with blades of iron and sheathed ourselves in armor. Now, we are embedding electronics into our bodies, networking our thoughts, breathing in outer space, and engineering our genes. This self-evolution is accelerating at a breathtaking rate. It seems inevitable we will continue to enhance ourselves with machines and genetic manipulations. What will healthcare be like a generation from now? The environment? War? Will we still consider ourselves human or will we be human v2.0?

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are either
fictitious or used fictitiously.