Fall of the Iron Gods, page 20
“Sumi. You don’t know Riz-Ali Singh, do you? Kid Synch?” I ask.
“Yes, I do. Or did, before he got mixed up with that smuggler during AllianceCon. Can’t blame him for that. She was hot. Everyone makes mistakes. Well, not me. We worked together. Solace internship.”
The girl never, ever takes a breath.
“Slow down, moto racer. And by the way, that hot girl he ran with is my sister.”
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“I’m not.”
“No, I mean, we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. I’m sorry, I’m not good with people.”
“Okay . . . so you were co-workers . . .” I continue.
Sumi points her finger like a gun. “Bingo. But my connection to the Red Hand wasn’t through him. I had no idea what he was involved in. After they jailed my parents, who were engineers for Solace, I searched for others like me: Uplanders who aren’t happy with the direction of the neural-synch, the metal mind sickness, and now, with the Axiom program moving from trial to reality this week, the new synths they have patrolling Central.”
“I’m so sorry,” Commander Luz says and hands her a glass of water.
“But why would they take your parents?” I ask. “They’re probably not revolutionaries.” Wouldn’t we know if they are?
“That’s the thing, they aren’t. Weren’t. God, they might be . . . dead.” Her large, round eyes fill with tears, and she starts to cry near hysterically. Her eye makeup runs down her cheeks in rivers.
I slip my hand into hers. “Tell us everything.”
“After the fall of the Narrows and the attack on the Ring—” She looks at me and my scowl, then rethinks her words. “What I mean is: after AllianceCon was stopped because of the explosion at the Ring, things changed the next day.”
“How so?” Commander Luz asks and hands her a tissue, which is actually an old take-out napkin from the desk drawer.
“Citizens of Central were registered and upgraded to a new AI-Assisted Governance program called Axiom, in addition to the neural-synch and Solace. Uplanders and Downlanders got an additional mod implant in their wrist. Actually, the neural-synchs are now superfluous. That’s one reason Uplanders are getting riotous: they want exclusivity and special treatment. We all thought the chip was just a simple upgrade, like the many others they’ve required before. A tweak of the system, or a higher level of productivity, you know. Normal stuff.”
“Yeah, normal brain-altering technology stuff,” Wasp scoffs.
Sumi wipes her tears and glares at him. “It was what was done in the past, so we assumed it would be more of the same. Yes, we were chosen for the domed city and yet most of us, while thankful for the chance to survive, had many questions about what they were forcing us to do. But it started right away. After the upgrade and connection to Axiom, some people got sick.”
“What are you saying?”
“They were hearing things, hallucinating. Some had total and complete mental breakdowns. It was like the new upgrade was incompatible with their central processors.”
“And by that you actually mean their brains,” Commander Luz says.
“Right.” Sumi’s smile poorly hides her awkwardness.
“Anyway, dozens fell ill with this mind infection. But the SAP took them away to hospitals, and no one ever saw them again. I wasn’t told where they took my parents. They both fell ill. They could be dying alone in a hospital bed right now for all I know.”
Or more likely they’ve rounded up the weak and tossed them into containment to die. I don’t say it, though. “Any idea what made them sick but not others?”
“Might be a compatibility issue. The new wrist mod and Axiom could be creating dangerous chemical imbalances.”
I encourage her further. “So, after your parents went missing, you started to dig.”
“Yup. And I found way more than I ever wanted.” She shifts and looks around the room nervously. “I’m still a Solace Corp. employee, and now also an Axiom employee. I can’t leave. This job was assigned to me by the government, which means if I step away, I would be committing a crime.”
Commander Luz leans down to speak to Sumi. “Tell us everything you know about Axiom.”
She pulls out a microdrive from her tailored jumpsuit pocket. “Here. I couldn’t risk sending this. If they caught me transmitting this information, I’d be dead.”
Commander Luz inserts the microdrive into her small tablet and pulls up document after document. “It’s going to take a while to sort through this. Why don’t you give us an overview in the meantime?”
Sumi wipes her face and blows her nose. “Solace was a stage one machine learning program. We’ll never really know the entirety of its scope. But the way it’s designed, the techs created a layer in its heuristic training that keeps an opening to allow the engineers to make changes to a subject whenever they want without informing the user. Extreme changes, not just updates. They’ve made it compatible with a new AI system, Axiom, which is directly connected to the new synth guardians. The newest iteration is a trigger-happy predictive policing program, which is like thought-crime monitoring but worse, because you can’t really know what someone is thinking. And everyone has dangerous thoughts occasionally. And it’s rife with prejudice.”
“Control.”
“Yes, and now Axiom is the militarized AI at the right hand of the SAP and maybe even the PAC. We don’t know where it ends. It can and will implement whatever changes it desires. It’s writing its own code. I’m not even sure the government will have the ability to edit it with the speed and trajectory Axiom is moving.”
Wasp shakes his head. “I don’t get it. Didn’t the SAP win? Wasn’t everyone compliant in Central? They kicked out the dirty, unfit Downlanders. They get to keep their pristine domed city to themselves. Why push for more?”
Sumi frowns in earnest. “I don’t know. No one wanted this, but we can’t fight against it. There are riots now, civil unrest is brewing. There’s something going on that we just don’t understand yet.”
Commander Luz looks at Sumi carefully. “They’re monitoring your thoughts?”
“Not mine.” She taps a metal device she’s installed into her chest, a hack. “And not really. It’s a predictive algorithm that highlights risks in citizens: missing work, raised heart rate, illegal activity, lack of sleep. I managed to build a device that’s keeping the new Axiom mod from tracking my system and behavior. But my fix is temporary. They could find it any second if they looked; all they’d have to do is take me in for a scan. But my block doesn’t show up on their reports.”
I stand and pace. “How far is Axiom’s reach? If the AI system is assisting the government in Central now, does it go beyond the South Asian Province?”
“That’s what we need to find out. There was an Uplander riot in Central just a few days ago. People aren’t happy. The shuttle is about to head up to the Alliance Space Colony. People want to be on it, and the lottery isn’t enough to quell them. It’s all precarious,” Sumi says.
A sick feeling sets in. I say, “I want to know more about these synths.”
Sumi’s bottom lip trembles as she opens her mouth to speak, but then she presses her lips closed again. For once, her very chatty self is reserved. “I believe they were in development previously as the A.R.I. system, an experimental synthetic soldier prototype, Assimilated Reconnaissance Instrument. They called it the first Neo-Soldier. You can’t argue with them, can’t reason with them. If they lock onto you as a criminal, it’s over.”
“What’s our play?” I ask.
Commander Luz says, “We steal the Axiom code so that Tech Crew can build a kill code. Question is, how do we get our hands on it?” The Commander walks around the office, tapping her fingers along the wall as she speaks.
“That’s the problem,” Sumi says and points to the plans she handed us earlier. “It’s heavily guarded inside their R&D laboratory. The original program code is on an anachronistic system to avoid hacking altogether, like the Solace algorithm. The lab is a restricted area.”
“Can we get inside?”
Sumi’s eyelids flicker with activity as she runs through scenarios in her mind. “It won’t be easy. And we’ll need a team. Also, it’s dangerous; we might all die or go to prison camp.” She’s one hundred percent deadpan as she delivers all of this information.
“I’m in!” says Wasp, sounding too excited. “Let’s do this!” I glance at him, and he’s drooling over Sumi. Bro would walk into any fire to impress a pretty girl.
“You do have a death wish,” I say.
“Nah, I’m just ready to get these bastards.” He winks.
“We need to find a way to get inside. The lab’s walls are thick, there are ten guardians inside, and some of them are synth. There are drones, cameras, the works,” Sumi says.
I stretch on the ground, lifting my replacement legs to ease the pressure on my thighs. “It sounds like it’s built like a prison. But what about the ventilation system? Those must be accessible.”
Sumi shakes her head. “They’re too small. Only mice can crawl through them.”
Wasp asks, “What’s under the lab?”
“The lab is located at the edge of Central in a large research complex. They’re building everything from tech to shuttle parts to drones there.”
“There’s always a sewage line,” Wasp snaps his fingers. “It’s gross, but it’s a reality.”
“Okay, so we just need to find someone who knows the tunnels,” Sumi says.
I grin. “Ravni. She won’t like it. But maybe I can make her a deal.”
“Careful, T. She’s an open switchblade, that one,” Wasp warns.
“You’re not wrong. But I know the type.” I pause. “Anyone hungry?”
25//ASHIVA
I support Saachi’s head in my lap. I’m not going to let her die of some stupid infection after all we’ve been through. If we can get to this Barrens camp safely, hopefully we can get help for her and continue our mission.
“She’s not looking good,” Rohan says, his green eyes heavy with worry. “We’ve had worse, though. Lucky you got to us and the Athena in time. If you had gotten caught in the sand fury, you’d be out of luck permanently.” He cracks his knuckles, a nervous tick, but it sounds like a screech more than a pop. He removes his gloves and shows me some of his fingers are metal made. “The sand gets stuck in the joints so it’s best to cover them.”
The storm batters us, but the colossal rig is so heavy, all we hear are sounds like pebbles on an aluminum roof. Chains rattle the sides as we bump along. Its empty cargo hold could fit fifty people or a small tank. It’s clear they use this vehicle to carry heavy machinery. The oil slick on the base, along with dents and scratches, shows that well-worn story.
“Thanks, I’ll remember that.”
Without missing a beat, he asks, “What’s your name? You already know mine.”
We both smile. “You can call me Tiger. The tall one is called Ghost, the injured one is Tek, she’s Auntie, and he’s—well, the grumpy one, he’s The War Hammer.”
General Shankar smiles at me. “It’s true. I am just a weapon. But a handsome one.”
“You can call the little one with blue eyes Akash. That’s Soraya. The skinny one is Guli. I’m Rohan.”
“Akash, like the sky? That’s lovely,” I say to the little boy, who blushes.
“My parents were dreamers. To me the sky is ugly, sick, but they always wanted to dream beyond the clouds.”
“Hush, child,” Soraya, the woman driving the transport, says. “It’s a beautiful name, and you should be proud to have it. From inside, the sky is something else.”
Poonam Auntie asks, “This a family business then?”
Soraya doesn’t answer.
Soon we are out of the storm. The rig slows to a stop; its brakes whine like a metal beast. “We are here,” Soraya says. “You will need to trade for the cost of the journey. The boss will do what she wills with you; sometimes she wants folks to stick around a while and work. I just couldn’t leave you in the storm like that, being soldiers from the Last Vidroh. Wouldn’t be right.”
Ferric carries Saachi, as she’s under the influence of the meds Poonam Auntie gave her . We pour out of the rig and follow Soraya. Poonam Auntie is the first to stop, like she sees a UFO in the sky. We all look up. General Shankar asks, “Is that blue?”
The transport crew laugh along with Soraya like it’s an inside joke. “Sometimes, you have to travel through hell to find the most beautiful thing in the world. The sky clears up here in the center of the Barrens for a while each day. The outer rim is full of sand furies, cracklers, and clouds. The center pushes the storm outward. The science behind it is unclear.”
“It’s amazing. I’ve never seen a sky this color,” Ferric says.
Soraya stomps across the bright orange ground. “Close your mouths and stop gaping. Follow me.”
We head toward a rocky outcropping where people are milling about on the small hill. Ferric places Saachi down gently and we all peer over the cliff. An entire camp spreads out below.
Soraya leads us to an empty yurt, and I place Saachi on a cot. My crew sits down reluctantly. My opti-link scans the room. We’re surrounded by analog machines and tools. Aside from the transport rig, it’s like we’ve gone back in time, all the way to the twenty-first century. Poonam Auntie stays close to Saachi, holding her hand. General Shankar lingers in the doorway, scanning the surroundings. I wonder if he knew about this place. He must have. The secrets that man keeps must be a tremendous burden.
A few minutes pass before a woman and a man enter the tent. They’re both older with youthful expressions. “I’m a doctor, of sorts,” the man says. “I can help your friend. Just give us some space. Your metal . . . it makes me nervous.” His gaze falls upon my replacement arm. We don’t budge.
“What a bloody mess,” the doctor of sorts says to his partner. “I need to begin again. Is she sedated?”
Poonam Auntie replies, “I gave her a dose of meds. It should keep her pain-free and tranquilized for at least another fifteen minutes.”
“That’s good because this will hurt. We will deep clean and cauterize the wound. If you aren’t a medic, please leave the tent now. You’ll only get in the way.”
We clear out, leaving Poonam Auntie with Saachi. Small repairs to machines and people aren’t difficult, but the big stuff is best left to the experts. Ferric hangs by the door and nods to me as we pass. I never noticed it before, but I sense a growing affection between Ferric and Saachi.
General Shankar slides his goggles onto his forehead, opens his coat, and lets the sunshine hit his bare chest directly. His necklace catches the light. A small metal cluster shimmers with reds and yellows.
“Didn’t take you for the necklace-wearing type.” I sit beside him.
“I’m not. It’s a memory.”
As he turns, the sun hits it: a tiny replacement part for a child’s finger joint. My breath catches.
“What’s our plan, sir?” I ask quietly.
“Just getting the vitamin D that my body has never had the glory of experiencing before.”
“I mean about the—”
“Ace, when a perfect moment comes along, you need to learn how to enjoy it just for one minute.” He sits down on a scrap metal bench and leans back, like a cat melting in the sun.
“Um but . . .”
“Shh.”
Accept.
< . . . >
“These goddamn updates . . .”
Scrap. My scanner continues to monitor the area. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to turn it off. Is it possible to rest while staying alert, or will my fight response never allow me the luxury of relaxation? My muscles tense, jaw tightens, my head aches. But then my system recalibrates and the pain dissolves. The one thing it will not allow me to do is relax. Sleep, yes: it gives me the chance to slip into a deep, nightmarish sleep. But let my guard down? Not a chance. Will I ever dream normal dreams, without the anxiety of war twisting them into horrific visions? Will I ever be able to relax enough to think beyond this war? And then my mind goes to Synch, and I wonder if I’ll ever meet him again. Have I become too metal, unable to be touched?
What have I done? What has been done to me?
“I can’t relax. It’s not in my system to do so.”
“If an old gunnie like me can do it, you can too. It’s about balance. There’s a lot of metal in you, sure. But how much it runs you, well, that’s up to you entirely. You are in control. You choose when to lead and when to be led by your tech. Don’t forget that.”
“But how do I push it back, General? It’s interrupting me all the time. Sometimes I feel like it’s not syncing completely.”
“Are you still getting those dumb update alerts? Just accept them as they come. It’ll stop eventually.”
“I’ll get right on that.”
The General opens one of his dark brown eyes and gives me a glare that would knock a guardian into a gutter. I need to learn how to do that. “Lesson three: Shut up and relax. Close your eyes. Feel this sun on your face. I’m serious. Do it. Right now.”
My lessons thus far: pay attention to details, believe in myself, and relax. I recite the lessons in my mind so I don’t forget them, and then I close my eyes. At first there’s a green report running across my mind, and even with my eyes closed, the opti-
link analyzes the surroundings. When I lift my goggles, the sun warms my face.
“What do you sense? Describe it to me in detail,” he says.
“I’m not good with words.”
