Post-Human Trilogy (52 page)

PART 3

1

WAKING UP was entirely unexpected; waking up to see his dead wife looking down at him was beyond reason.

“James? It’s time to wake up,”
Katherine Keats
said with a familiar hint of impatience in her tone.

James looked up at the form of his dead wife and studied it for a moment. It was perfectly vivid.

“You’re not dead,” Katherine said, as though she were responding to his thoughts.

Was it possible that there was some sort of residual electrical patterning that continued in the moments after death, even without a body? Could this be some sort of
cyber death dream
?

“You’re always trying to figure things out, aren’t you?” Katherine said, sighing and shaking her head. “Why can’t you simply ask?” She moved to the side and revealed another figure standing nearby. She addressed him. “You see? This is what you used to be like all the time.”

“I’m sorry,”
James’s doppelganger
replied, apologizing to her.

The doppelganger’s eyes met those of James, and he stepped toward his twin with an outstretched hand. “Help you up?”

James’s mouth hung open as he pondered the vision before him. He put his own hand up and grasped the hand that was offered to him, then stood to his feet. Katherine Keats remained, arms folded; she was wearing an expression of resignation. The doppelganger stood nearby with a considerably more sympathetic expression on his face. Behind them was a vast network of what appeared to be some sort of golden circuitry, glowing brightly and undulating like the sea all the way into the horizon where it sparkled like a setting sun in front of a pure black backdrop.

“
Much have I travelled in the realms of gold, and many goodly states and kingdoms seen
,” James whispered in awe.

The doppelganger smiled. “
On First Looking into Chapman’s Homer,
” he observed, before adding, “you’re not dead, James.” He put his hand reassuringly on James’s shoulder.

“Okay,” James replied after a moment, still not sure if he was engaging in a conversation with images from his subconscious or not—did he
even have
a subconscious any more?

“He doesn’t believe you, Jim,” Katherine said to the doppelganger.

James arched his eyebrow quizzically. “
Jim?
”

The doppelganger smiled. “I needed a name. I’m not you—at least not anymore—so I needed something to differentiate myself. I figured going by Jim was the easiest.”

“Jim?” James repeated, his eyebrows now knitted.

The doppelganger laughed. “Yeah, I know. I hated it too, but coming up with a whole new name didn’t appeal to me.”

“I prefer Jim now,” Katherine said. Jim turned to Katherine and shrugged in response. James immediately recognized that she wasn’t referring to the name.

“What the hell is going on?” James asked. “Who or what are you?”

“I’m your doppelganger. We’ve met. You remember.”

“And I’m your former wife,” Katherine added, “you remember?” Hell hath no fury.

“My wife is gone,” James replied. “I saw her deleted by the A.I. myself. I took control of the mainframe and checked to see if there was any trace of her left. You’re not my wife.”

“We were both deleted,” Jim responded, stepping between James and Katherine before Katherine had a chance to fire back; he could tell she wanted to from her rigid body language. “We ended up here.”

“Where is
here
?” James asked.

“The other side of the looking glass,” Katherine interjected with a sardonic smile.

“Honey, please,” Jim said, putting his hand on her shoulder in a gesture for civility. “This is going to be confusing enough for him without riddles.” He turned back to James, “We’re still in the mainframe—sort of,” Jim explained.

“Impossible,” James replied, disbelieving, yet getting used to the impossible becoming possible.

“
Impossible?
That’s not the sort of word I remember the greatest inventor in the world ever using before,” said the most kind and familiar voice in James’s life. He turned quickly with a start, and his eyes fell upon the unmistakable figure of the A.I.

2

“What sort of sick game is this?” James asked, turning from the A.I. and looking up into the sky, as though he were addressing an omnipresent listener. “You couldn’t just kill me, could you? You had to play one last sadistic trick?”

“Who the hell are you talking to, you moron?” asked Katherine as she shook her head dismissively.

“Honey! Please,” Jim responded to her. “He is 99.999 percent me. Please have a little compassion for his situation.”

“
Honey?
” James reacted with morbid curiosity.

Katherine smiled the instant she realized that she had the chance to cause James more pain. “That’s right.” She crossed over to Jim and put her arm around his waist, cradling his body next to hers. “Jim and I have become lovers.”

Jim sighed and shook his head, “Katherine, please.”

For a fraction of a second, James’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Okay. What the hell is going on?”

“They’ve mended fences, James,” responded the A.I., completely returned to the friendly, elderly form with which James had been familiar for most of his life. “They had a lot of history and a powerful emotional attachment between them. It took time, but they have become very close over the past year and seven months.”

James didn’t know with whom he should share his look of astonishment. His eyes moved from the A.I.’s, to the doppelganger’s, to Katherine’s, then back to the doppelganger’s. Jim started answering questions without James having to ask them. “We were both deleted—we found each other here—we’ve had a lot of time to talk through our issues. We’re different people than we were before, James.”

James closed his eyes to block out the visions around him. He told himself that he would figure out what was going on. He wasn’t insane.

Katherine sensed his anguish and she timed a kiss on Jim’s cheek to correlate perfectly with the reopening of James’s eyes.

The A.I. strolled in front of James and met his eye. “
Reconciliation is possible
, James. It’s good to have you back,
my son.
”

“
My son
?” James scoffed. “You think I’m going to believe that you’re the A.I.? The A.I. was deleted by the nans. The A.I. is gone. There is no coming back.”

“I was deleted. That’s true,” the A.I. concurred.

“You’re trying to drive me insane. I don’t know why,” James grunted, shaking his head and turning away from the trio of ghosts.

“It
is
the A.I., James,” Jim said, his voice filled with compassion. If there was ever a time when it was easy to feel empathy for someone, it was now. “It’s t
he real A.I.
—the one we’ve always known.”

“Impossible.”

“I’m not asking you to believe me, James,” the A.I. replied patiently, his tone just as kind as it always used to be, back before he had been deleted and replaced by the nans. “
Belief
is not good enough for rational minds such as yours. I’m only asking that you use your
reason
. Then you can decide for yourself whether we are who we say we are.”

“You might as well listen,” Katherine chimed in, “After all, it’s not like you’re going anywhere.”

3

E
ven before Old-timer had reached the other side of the wormhole, he could see the unprecedented size of the nan attack on the android fleet. The android presence stretched out as far as the eye could see at that range, a wall of people and continent-sized frigates that dwarfed any asteroid belt. Look as far as you wanted to, up, down, or to either side and you could not see the end of it.

The nans that had exploded off of the surface of Mars, the Earth and Venus in a number that might as well have been infinite were crashing against the equally infinite wall of androids. The massive celestial cloud of nans was even darker than the androids, a planet-sized hurricane of hell. The worst of it seemed to be several minutes away by light speed, but it was doing catastrophic damage at every moment and was nearing the frigate where Old-timer’s friends were being held.

Old-timer floated into the opening of the frigate; the metallic skins of the ships had large gaps within them to allow for easy accessibility. However, the gaping openings reminded Old-timer of his childhood and the sight of buffalos rotting in the Texas sun, their backs torn open by scavengers so that their ribcages were exposed.

He dropped down into the inner workings of the immense structure, cruising by the network of catwalks and platforms and working his way toward the room in which he knew his friends were still unconscious—Neirbo hovering over them in waiting.

When he found the right door, he opened it with his android mind’s eye and floated in. His expression immediately changed from the grimmest brooding to the utmost concern when he saw his friends locked into the metal coffins.

They were already awake.

“What the hell is this?” Rich yelled furiously as he watched Old-timer enter the room, aghast at what he saw as the false image of his former friend.

“Why are they awake? You said you’d wait,” Old-timer demanded of Neirbo, who stood adjacent to the three black coffin structures. No one else was in the room with them.

“They’ve only just been awakened at this instant,” Neirbo replied matter-of-factly.

“You could’ve given me a little warning,” Old-timer replied tersely.

“Time,” was all that Neirbo said in reply.

“What are you? Why are you doing this?” Thel demanded, the dismay in her voice causing it to crack.

“Please,” Old-timer said to her and the others, holding his palms toward them in a gesture for calm.

“You’re not Old-timer! You’re one of
them!
” Djanet reacted angrily.

“I’m still Old-timer—I’m still Craig,” Old-timer replied. “I need you to stay calm while I explain—”

“We know you aren’t Old-timer!” Rich yelled back, “So you can take whatever lies you’ve got cooked up and shove them straight up your metal ass!”

“Where’s James?” asked Thel as she realized he wasn’t in the room with them. His absence sent a terrible stab of dread through her chest.

“That
wasn’t James
,” Old-timer replied as calmly as he could, though the constant trauma he had endured was quickly breaking him down.

“More lies!” Rich shouted. “You’re an android! We don’t have to believe a thing you say! You murdered Old-timer! You’re pissing on his memory by wearing his likeness! You’re not fit to even pretend...”

“This isn’t working,” Neirbo suddenly interjected with enough force to stop Rich’s fury in its tracks. “We should proceed with the standard education.”

“No!” Old-timer shouted at him, waving him back before turning his attention to Rich. “You’re just going to have to forgive me for this,” he said, stepping toward Rich and punching him hard across the face. Rich recoiled violently as he rolled with the punch as best he could in his restraints. A moment or two of stunned silence followed before Rich turned his face slowly around to reveal that the blow had torn the skin on his cheek, exposing the metal casing underneath.

“Oh my God,” Djanet gasped.

“What have you done?” Thel whispered, suddenly beginning to realize the horrendous implications.

“You monsters!” Djanet screeched ferociously at Old-timer.

“I’m okay,” Rich said reassuringly to Djanet and Thel. “I can take a little punch.” His face contorted into utter bafflement as the two women continued to react with horror.

“It’s not just the punch,” Old-timer said quietly.

“They’ve turned you into one of them!” Djanet began to sob. “You’re one of them!”

Rich’s eyes grew to match his terror. “What?” he tried to say, the words evaporating in his throat and dissipating to an inaudible whisper.

“It’s the same for all of you,” Old-timer stated frankly. He paused for a moment before correcting himself: “All of
us
.”

“I...I don’t believe it,” Thel said as tears of pain, terror, and dread welled in her eyes.

“I’ll show them if I have to,” Neirbo said to Old-timer.

“No!” Old-timer shouted back in response for the second time. He turned to address his friends once again. “Look, believe me, we’ve all been
assimilated
. You don’t want anymore proof.”

“Assimilated?” Djanet cried out. “You’ve killed us! We’re just copies! You killed us!”

“We are running low on time,” Neirbo warned.

“Who the hell is that guy?” Rich demanded.

“His name is Neirbo. He’s one of the androids.”

“I’m human,” Neirbo replied firmly. “So are all of you.”

“How the hell do you figure that?” Rich demanded.

Old-timer stepped in once again, keeping his palms up as he desperately tried to keep his friends from antagonizing Neirbo. He knew the consequences of doing that all too well. “Look, we’re about to let you go. We’re going to explain what’s going on, and what you decide to do with that information is up to you. I hope you’ll help me. I hope we can work together to get out of this mess. But it’s up to you.”

“What are you talking about?” Thel asked.

“You’re still human,” Neirbo replied.

“He needs to shut up,” Rich spat.

“This is not going well,” Neirbo sighed. “The empath would have been invaluable. You should have brought her with you.”

“She wanted to go back to her old body,” Old-timer responded. “You said we were free to choose. That’s what she chose.”

“We granted you the right to try to persuade them because we felt the empath could achieve this and allow us to avoid the standard education. We are running out of time.”

“Just give me two minutes,” Old-timer pleaded. “Just give me two minutes, and I can make them understand.”

“Understand what? What’s happening?” Thel asked again.

“The nans have turned against us,” Old-timer explained. “The andr...these...metallic humans came here to save us, not to harm us.”

“To
save
us?” Rich reacted with exasperation. “By destroying our bodies and making machine copies?”

“By transferring you to new bodies,” Neirbo interjected, “and discarding the infected ones.”

“They tried to contact us, but the nans blocked their communication,” Old-timer furthered.

“Old-timer, how can you possibly know they’re telling you the truth?” Thel replied.

Old-timer remained silent for a moment, his eyes locked with Thel’s. He could show them how he knew, but he didn’t want to.

“Show them,” Neirbo urged. “Show them now.”

“There must be another way,” Old-timer replied.

“There is. Would you prefer
that?
”

“No!” Old-timer shouted for a third time. “No,” he repeated immediately, this time more softly. “Of course not. Fine. Show them,” he said, turning his back and facing the wall.

A recording began to play in the mind’s eyes of the three prisoners, a point-of-view shot of James in the A.I. mainframe.