Socket 2 - The Training of Socket Greeny (23 page)

“How did they win?” I asked. “They were
outnumbered in the arena, how could they possibly have won?”

“They are duplicates, cadet. They are
manufactured beings that speak the language of technology. What is
a crawler, mmm?” He paused. “What is the room?”

They were all nanotechnology; they were
scripted programs made up of cellular-sized machines that followed
orders. The duplicates managed to reprogram the crawler and turn
them against their creators. And the transforming room! The
Paladins were in the belly of the enemy at the end. The floor
exploded and a tidal wave was falling on us when we escaped. We
were being swallowed by the room.

“We created our enemies, cadet. We didn’t see
what was in front of us. Who do we have to blame?”

The duplicates wouldn’t stop with us when
there were millions of humans in the world. Why not give them all
an imbed and start the conversion until no one got sick, no one
felt pain, and everyone got what their hearts desired?

Thoughts of hopelessness seized my insides. I
put them to rest, let them fall away like useless chaff and
returned to the present moment. I pushed myself up an inch or
two.

“We need to gather the surviving Paladins,” I
commanded. “Call forth a transporter and get us to a hiding place.
Get us somewhere remote, send out a beacon to all surviving
Paladins. All is not lost, Pon.” I scanned the surrounding trees.
We were in the open without weapons or protection. “This is the
last place we need to be.”

Sensation returned to my legs. I pushed
against the tree trunk until I was sitting up. Pon gazed back at
the moon, breathing deep, like my father had, relishing the moment
and not the least concerned our tactical position was horrible.

Rudder urged me to be still. I consumed
whatever strength I had just to sit up. My pulse had weakened
rapidly. If I had some lifepatches, I’d be in better shape.

“Pivot trained me.” Pon was still looking
heavenward, ignoring my struggle. “He opened me to my potential.
The Paladin Nation thought I would become his successor.” He turned
to me and, for the first time ever, a faint smile broke the corner
of his mouth. “I was only meant to guide you.”

How else would he know the underground
tunnels?

“Pivot is older than our planet.” His tone
was louder and stronger. “I don’t know who he is or where he came
from, cadet, I only know him. And for that, I am eternally
grateful.”

Pon bowed his head and his lips moved
silently, as if giving thanks. The grimmets squabbled. Pon glanced
at them. He shuffled away from the edge and walked down the
slab.

“Why did he leave? Why not stay and fight, he
could’ve defeated them himself.”

“Pivot didn’t need to stay.” He took the
evolvers from his belt and they unfolded quietly around his arms.
The palms of his hands were glowing blue, awaiting command.

“You,” he said. “He gave us you.”

Pon’s eyes remained open and soft, allowing
me complete access to his admiration and love. Without him, where
would I be?

And then the glare returned. The look of
steel ridged his brows and creased his forehead. His lips pulled
back, thin and grim. He nodded to me, slowly, deliberately, and
turned his back. He flicked his wrists and three long whips
slithered from each hand, the glow illuminating the surrounding
forest. The whips crawled along the stone like snakes.

Several figures emerged from the trees, all
dressed in Paladin uniform. The central figure was tall with broad
shoulders, his hair short, nose flat. It was the Chief Commander.
Com. The most successful Commander in the Paladin Nation.
Keep
your enemies closer than your allies, cadet. That way you always
know what they’re doing.

Com stopped at the bottom of the slab. His
six assassins continued forward, activating evolvers. Pon did not
activate a shield. He stood between the enemy and me, completely
vulnerable.

Brute force is the weakest response. But
sometimes, it is the only option.

It was a beautiful battle.

They surrounded him, each engulfed in a
glowing shield. There was no need to slice time; they were all
capable of matching each other’s skill. They fought in ordinary
time, as if the showdown was merely a ritual. Six to one, the fight
was a formality. The ending wouldn’t be a surprise. Pon took the
center.

They raised their weapon hands like a firing
squad. Blue pulses blazed from their palms and converged in the
center. Pon danced inside a furious storm of electrical whips,
deflecting the impossible. The enemy stopped firing in order to
power up their shields to block the energy Pon was deflecting back
and in that moment he clapped his hands together. A lance emerged
and spiked one of them between the eyes, the two-handed weapon too
much for his shield.

The remaining enemies repositioned, allowed
Pon to return to the center in ceremonial fashion. They aborted
firing pulsars, instead charging with a variety of weapons. They
came at him with staves and swords and scorching whips. He couldn’t
guard against them all, but Pon parried and spun, simultaneously
defending and attacking. The air churned and crackled. Shields
buzzed and the enemies pressed on until another fell, this one cut
in half. Pon wiped his face as he returned to the center.

Com watched as his men fell.

Perhaps Pon didn’t see the crawler emerge
from the trees; did not sense it creeping close to the ground. It
stopped near Com, swaying hypnotically like a praying mantis
sighting its prey. Pon drove the enemies backward, but his back was
to Com and his crawler. An enemy stumbled. Pon raised his hands to
end the fifth assassin.

Com nodded.

One of the crawler’s legs darted, its
needle-tip blurred through Pon’s chest.

Pon stopped, mid-strike. The enemies lowered
their weapons. In reverence, they watched this warrior slide off
the crawler’s leg. The evolvers unfolded from his arms. He laid
face up, eyes on the glowing moon. His last breath gurgled, but he
held it. Blinked. And then it leaked from his lungs. His eyes
remained open.

All I could do was watch.

My vision had been fulfilled. I saw Pon’s
death when I first met Com. If I understood what it was, could I
have stopped it? Could I have changed the future, or were we all
destined to our end?

I did not experience anger’s burn, nor the
tension of hatred. I only felt the warm release of affection for a
man that guided me to realization, a man that served life and had
given his own. For that man, lying breathless and alone, I was
filled with love. Pon would not ask that one ounce of energy be
expended in regret.

But it was impossible not to want
revenge.

Pon is dead.

Com approached Pon’s body. The two reaming
assassins stood at attention while he looked over it. The crawler
jerked me to my feet. My head snapped back.

“Gently,” Com called. “We prefer him
alive.”

The crawler’s grip eased, the leg still warm
from Pon’s blood. Its spherical body pulsed like a beating heart. I
wanted to destroy it for blindly following orders, but I could
barely keep my head up.

Com kept his distance as the enemies
approached. One limped badly; the other’s face was half-blackened
from a near fatal strike. The crawler rose up and allowed them to
walk underneath. Rudder stayed tightly wrapped around my neck.

The enemies looked hard, but their stares
softened as they neared. They looked into my eyes, trancelike.
Their last steps were mechanical and aimless. They leaned in, their
lips moving silently.

“Beautiful,” the blackened one muttered.

They were mesmerized not by what they saw,
but what they felt. It was everything they dreamed of. When all
their orders had been completed and every command followed, the
duplicates were still left void of life. They could learn to act
like a human, to feel and do everything like a human, but they
could never
be
. They would always imitate life. What they
felt, when they gazed inside me, was the pure moment of
presence.

“Step away,” Com said.

The two hesitated, but moved to the side. Com
was wiping dust from his hands, staring at Pon’s body. “I would
rather your trainer alive, but I don’t think he would’ve cared for
becoming one of us. He would’ve been very problematic, yes.” He
looked at me. “I believe it’s better it ended this way.”

“How could you do this?” I said.

“How? Why do think I’m the most productive
Commander in the entire Paladin Nation? I make Paladins, young man.
Then I turn them into duplicates. They’re much more successful that
way, I think you would agree.”

“You’re mistaken if you think you’ve found
another one,” I whispered. “Lay me next to Pon.”

“You haven’t heard my offer.”

“I’ve heard enough.”

“We’ve been misrepresented.” Com lifted his
hands in an offer of innocence. “It is true we’ve become synthetic
beings, but we think and feel exactly as we were when we were
organic, yes. We’re still very human-like. In fact, we’re better.”
He shrugged.
And that’s a fact.

But he said human-like. Even he knew there
was a difference, even if he thought it was better.

“I was once human, very much like you. I was
born into the Paladin Nation and trained. In fact, I was very
successful in my Realization Trial, so much so that I rose to
Commander in a very short time. I had a great aptitude. I had
vision, young man. It should not surprise you that I decided to
convert. You see, the duplicates have been part of the Paladin
Nation a long time. You’d be surprised just how high up the
betrayal goes. They knew I would be a good candidate because I know
what works.” He glanced at Pon with a hint of a smile. “And what
doesn’t.”

He walked a bit closer to me. The grimmets
squabbled overhead, their movements squirming inside my chest.

“Duplicated humans are more intelligent than
their originals, young man. They calculate on levels never even
conceived of by mankind. They have the next thousand years planned,
and it starts with taking over the Paladin Nation. Do you think any
of this has been an accident? The Paladins are a formidable foe,
and to beat them meant to become them. Duplicates are the superior
breed, young man, like it or not. So when I was invited to join
them, I simply chose to be superior.”

He stood quiet and very still. Strength
trickled through my body as Rudder hummed against my neck, but it
only made me more aware of the pain.

“I resisted at first,” he said. “I mean, the
thought of giving up my humanity…” He nodded, looking away. “That’s
a big one, yes. But I understood that, ultimately, we
can
control our destiny. Why should we leave it up to chance? Why
should we let nature decide what we’ll become when we can program
our own DNA? We can decide what we’ll be, what we’ll look like.
Cancer? Not anymore. Memory loss? Not possible. I can
tell
my body what I want it to do, what to feel. I am an impeccable
representation of the human species, young man.
Impeccable.”

He jabbed at the ground like he presented
evidence to a jury.

“You see, even Albert Einstein once said that
God does not roll dice. God has laws. Laws? Mmm? Does that not
sound like programming to you? And in the end, aren’t we all made
in the image of our Father, if you want to quote the bible? Humans
are self-centered, they are imperfect programs. What kind of honor
is that for God to be proud of, I ask you? If we are truly made in
his image, then we need to be impeccable. We were given the
intelligence to fix the broken human species.”

“You’re a machine.”

“And who says God isn’t manufactured?” He
smirked. “He could very well be a machine, too. Yes?”

“I’ve seen the beauty of existence, there’s
nothing to accomplish.” The two assassins still hadn’t looked away.
“Ask them.”

“Yes, well, you’ve displayed quite a vision,
and we hope to integrate that into the mainframe database. We’ll
all be uploaded with your existential experience. But indulge me
for another moment. What are all humans afraid of?”

He lifted his chin, allowing tension to
build.

“Death, wouldn’t you say? They’re all afraid
that one day it’s all coming to an end, and no one wants that. They
want what they have, what they’ve worked so hard for. They want to
keep that.” He clenched his fists. “They want to hold onto what’s
theirs, don’t you think that’s fair? They’ve worked so very hard
for their life, why should they have to give it all away simply
because their bodies can’t go on? Wouldn’t it be wonderful to
possess your life forever, yes? But you can’t do that if you remain
organic, young man.”

He held up his finger, head lowered, holding
the final, clinching answer.

“Nothing has to die. We can all live and live
and live. Just think, we can manufacture a likeness of your father
and upload his memories. He can be standing here, right in front of
us tomorrow! He’ll walk and talk and remember you, what’s the
difference?” He tipped his back and looked down his nose. “If
you’re one of us, you never die. You live, young man. Forever.”

“Delusion,” I said, “is not living. You’re
not real, and you don’t even know it.”

“You cannot stop the inevitable. Humans are
the past. We are the future.”

“But you’re not here.”

He locked his hands behind his back and took
a deep breath.

“It doesn’t matter what you decide to do,” he
said, quietly. “The human race will all convert in the end, young
man. And, trust me, there won’t be a problem. They’re already
programs, yes? The human race behaves from psychological
experiences, blindly acting out suppressed memories and fears. Few
ever try to understand themselves. They’re not interested in
discovering what’s real, young man, they’re only concerned with
what makes them happy. They only
want
, they’re not
interested in
being.
They’re infants searching for a
breast.” He extended his empty hand, palm up, and said gently,
“With us, they get what they want.”