Of course, until the human mind can be extracted from the brain, we will always be under fleshy house arrest.
Arnon D’Bvaym
EVERY COUNCIL MEMBER, save for Governor Fitzpatrick, made some noise of surprise. Nix reached for the gun holstered on his belt. Fitzpatrick just stared, his brows knitted together with an odd expression.
Nix looked past 64Bit, his face reddening; 64Bit followed his gaze and saw Richard and Kayla alone, both standing stone-still. Nix said, “Why was this not reported directly to your commanding officer?” His glare could cut steel sheets.
Richard grimaced, then replied, “I’m sorry, sir. She was indisposed, sir. Unavailable for report. We tried to tell her it was important, but we did not give details to her assistant, fearing it could cause panic if the information leaked out, sir. We didn’t know what to do, but we knew that no one in the settlement was better prepared to deal with rozies than the guardian. Sir.”
Kayla stepped forward. “Please, don’t blame my trainer. We tried waiting for our commanding officer, but I told him that we had to act. I left the commanding office with the head—he had no choice but to follow me.”
“Interesting,” 64Bit whispered. Richard and Kayla had shared roughly the same story back at his home, but Richard had given himself more agency in his version of the story.
Nix started to rise, but Governor Fitzpatrick placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Make sure to follow up with the commanding officer before you decide whether or not to make an example of them. If things are exactly as they say, their decision is understandable—and I don’t think anyone will complain about how few people are aware of this head, thanks to their actions. However, I too am disappointed by their lack of faith in Fort and their leaders.”
Nix shrugged off Governor Fitzpatrick’s hand. “I’ll handle my men as I see fit. But advice noted.”
“This wasn’t found anywhere near Fort’s farm fields, was it?” Regina asked, fanning her forehead with some papers.
“What about the walls themselves?” Rex, the council master who oversaw the settlement’s water management, pressed.
“Let’s hear a full report—now,” Nix said, returning to his seat, face the color of a live ember.
“And wait until they are finished before peppering them with questions,” Governor Fitzpatrick added, steadily looking at each council member. “Charles, now is a time for an audio recorder rather than just your notes and memory.”
“We were—” Kayla blurted out.
“From your trainer!” Nix said firmly.
Kayla’s face twisted. With effort, she stepped back until she stood side-by-side with Richard.
64Bit looked around the room and noted the empty chair the master would sometimes sit in. He walked to it, feeling as if the dead eyes of the rozie head were following him the whole while. He sat straight and tried to look confident as he watched Richard share his story, feeling as if everyone in the room knew he was just acting out a charade. Much of what Richard had to share 64Bit had already heard.
As Richard spoke, his face was sober. He described how he and Kayla had been separated while hunting a buck on the south-western side of the valley. Kayla had found suspicious footprints, gotten attacked by the head, and Richard had found her later in a panicked state. Kayla closed her eyes, cheeks pinking at that comment.
“We scoured the area for footprints immediately afterward,” Richard continued, the hiss of his chipped tooth pronounced in the large, quiet room. “We found some, but they weren’t headed toward Fort . . . or staying together. In case any rozies changed direction toward Fort, we felt the best decision was to get here before them—it took over a day of hard travel by foot, but we made it. When we arrived, the commanding office was full of scouts preparing written reports, but Frecia—our CO—wasn’t taking any personal reports. Unfortunately, that’s normal for Frecia’s office, so I knew we’d need to wait a while.”
“That’s when I walked out and made him follow me to the guardian technomancer’s house,” Kayla blurted out. She looked like a mouse compared to the large, nearly empty cafeteria—but the tilt of her head, the thrust of her chin, made her appear more threatening than a mouse ever could.
Richard glared at her. “I don’t need your help, here. I’m your trainer—I bear the responsibility for actions I didn’t forbid.” He turned back to the council and cleared his throat. “I am ready for questions.”
The room was still as a tomb. Eventually, Charles, the clerk, asked in a high, squeaky voice, “You, ah, didn’t find the rest of it anywhere?”
“We found only its arm,” Richard responded.
“It was bugged,” 64Bit added.
Rex looked confused. “Bugged?”
“Bugged—it emitted a signal that would allow its location to be tracked,” 64Bit said. When council members began giving each other wide-eyed glances, 64Bit hastily added, “It was a very weak signal, and I destroyed the arm already. It had a virus that would have tried to hijack our communication systems, but I was able to prevent that—”
“Where is the guardian?” Nix interrupted, looking at Governor Fitzpatrick. “We need him now. Not an inexperienced boy.”
Governor Fitzpatrick looked at 64Bit. “Well?”
64Bit felt as though a large rock were resting in his stomach. He thought of the rozie head, its rusted spine—that head had been without a body for a long time. Even considering the vision he’d had, it was unlikely that the head was being actively monitored, even assuming a dark technomancer had planted it in the forest.
He could keep up appearances until the master was awake. The council relied too much on the master for them to be aware of any weakness.
“I’m representing him,” 64Bit said slowly. “I’m acting guardian technomancer for the day. He is . . . aware of what is happening and will address it in due time. Until then, you have me.”
Rex groaned. “A fine time to train a boy! What is he going to do? Or we, for that matter.”
“We hunt them down!” Kayla shouted, moving closer to the table and raising a fist. “We find them before they find us!”
“You don’t have a voice at council meetings, trainee,” Nix said. Richard stepped behind Kayla and grabbed her shoulder, eyes wide as dinner plates.
“Let her speak,” Regina said, raising an eyebrow at Nix. “Your ideas only involve running or hiding anyway.”
Kayla spoke quickly, clearly aware that her time to speak lasted as long as Nix and Regina were at odds. “We just need to send out some scouts to inspect the area, make sure that there aren’t any rozies lingering—or approaching us. If the scouts find any, they can lead them away—maybe toward the Blight. Then report. Meanwhile, we can increase scout patrol and watches, but keep the reason why on a need-to-know basis. This covers all of our bases.”
“I think it was already understood that we should keep things quiet until we know more—rozie activity should always be taken seriously, but if the footprints you found were moving away from Fort, no need to unnecessarily raise concerns,” Governor Fitzpatrick said, then looked at Nix. “And whatever plan we adopt, you would send out a crew of scouts to figure out what was going on anyway.”
“Obviously,” Nix replied.
64Bit shifted in his seat uncomfortably, memory of the vision and Fort’s destruction niggling the back of his mind.
Regina nodded “The fields aren’t very well defended, even with the scouts you send with the farmers,” she added. “I could see many of my men being unwilling to leave the settlement if they believed they were in danger. I support taking a quiet approach. After all, this is likely just a scare and nothing more.”
“You’d risk the lives of everyone in Fort on that?” Nix said. His voice, low, somehow stilled the entire table.
The other council members glanced at each other uneasily. Governor Fitzpatrick stood. “Nix, we’re not looking for a fight, but we’ll fight if we have to. Select your fastest, stealthiest crew— get them in the field, have them learn exactly what’s happening, then report back. We’ll tighten security around here—the gates will close during the day and all travelers will go through a metal detector. People will be curious, and they will speculate, but life will go on. If you have the manpower, increase patrols, particularly around the fields.” Governor Fitzpatrick then nodded at Regina. “Keep the farmers calm—we can’t afford a food crisis as well. Rex and Charles, we’ll work together to keep things moving as normal in the settlement. Everyone . . . keep your senses on high alert.”
“And what if a worst-case scenario happens?” 64Bit blurted out. “A large-scale rozie invasion—what if? Would we be prepared?”
Fitzpatrick stared at 64Bit. “Well, in large part that’s your area of expertise, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” 64Bit nodded. “We’re triple-checking to make sure the suppressors are in top condition, of course. I just meant—are the scouts prepared to fight rozies, if it comes to it?”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Fitzpatrick said. “We all know the ratio of losses the last time rozies entered our valley.”
Richard shifted uncomfortably. Several council members looked at their hands.
“Which brings us to our last item of business,” Fitzpatrick added, still staring at 64Bit. “Which one of you technomancers is going with Nix’s scouts?”
The rock in 64Bit’s stomach turned into a ball of ice. “What?”
“I know that your people can track rozies and manipulate them. At least, I’ve seen the guardian do strange things. If we have a technomancer to spare for this scouting mission, I’m requiring it. I imagine the guardian is too critical for the defenses of the settlement, so it’s you or the other acolyte—providing extra assistance shouldn’t be beyond your training, I hope. Be prepared to leave tomorrow morning. Agreed?” The governor’s expression left no room for argument.
64Bit’s mind raced. He suddenly felt painfully aware of his mortality—the beating of his heart, the rushing of blood in his veins, every quick breath. The last thing in the world that he wanted to do was leave Fort’s protective walls. But what else was he to do? It felt too late to share what happened to the master—he was in too deep.
Then Cortex came to mind—touching everything, curious about how the world worked, yet also unstudied, unfocused, and undisciplined. 64Bit could easily imagine how much trouble it would be to leave Cortex unattended, but Cortex would be in much more danger if 64Bit sent him with the scouts to look for rozies. 64Bit would be sending him to his death.
“So the question is, how confident am I that the scouts will find rozies?” 64Bit whispered to himself. He felt every eye in the room on him as he looked down at his hands. It was him or Cortex; there was danger or there wasn’t.
64Bit didn’t like what he’d gotten himself into, not one bit.
“Well?” Regina said, interrupting his thoughts.
64Bit realized that he’d turned his eye screens off as he thought. He flicked them on and looked at the rozie head in the center of the table. It would be strange if he sent Cortex, who was so much younger and less experienced than him—the boy’s natural talents with mentally controlling technology notwithstanding. Appearances would be better kept if—“I will go,” 64Bit whispered.
“Good.” Governor Fitzpatrick nodded. “Then this meeting is adjourned. Let’s get to work.”
“I will send a scout to collect you tomorrow morning,” Nix said to 64Bit. He then left, motioning to Richard and Kayla as he passed, and they fell in line behind him. Regina and Rex stayed behind, discussing ration distribution.
64Bit rolled the head into his backpack, avoiding looking at its eyes, and walked out with Governor Fitzpatrick and Charles. The rozie head had the weight of a tombstone.
Fitzpatrick bade farewell to Charles as they left the cafeteria, and then walked the same direction as 64Bit. He placed a gentle hand on 64Bit’s shoulder. “I can sense your concern. Don’t worry—you’ll be okay. We’ve made it this long. We’re lucky—or, perhaps a higher power is looking after us after all. Besides, you technomancers are a mysterious lot. I can’t even imagine what tricks you have up your sleeves.”
It felt good to be recognized as a technomancer, but there was a hollowness that accompanied the feeling. They walked a little farther, then 64Bit took a deep breath and said, “I should have mentioned—”
“Father!”
Governor Fitzpatrick stiffened, then sighed. “One moment, please.” He and 64Bit both turned to see Westley jogging down the hallway.
As Westley approached, he said, “Glad I caught you! I originally wanted to talk to you about that power surge, but the guardian technomancer’s acolyte here told me that it was already known and under control. I needed to find something else of use to do.” Westley raised his brows and looked at 64Bit as if he’d just realized 64Bit was there. “I didn’t ask for your name earlier! My apologies.”
“Ah—64Bit.”
Westley leaned in and his eyes widened. “Those screens— they’re a part of you! I assumed they were very flat goggles earlier, or maybe something like a monocle but for both eyes. Very interesting. Are the pixelated eyes intentional, or the result of limited access to screens with smaller pixels and greater color variety?”
“Westley, I don’t have time for this now, and neither does the acolyte,” Fitzpatrick said.
“It’s just interesting. But you’re right.” Westley looked at the governor and 64Bit seriously. “If this wasn’t brought up in the council already, I have something very grave for us to consider, about the power surge.” He smiled, as if waiting for someone to ask him what, then continued on. “Ghosts!”
Fitzpatrick and 64Bit stared at Westley, who just smiled and jammed his hands in his pockets.
“Not real ghosts, of course, because those don’t exist,” Westley added, nodding as he spoke. “Anyway. You see, on my computer screen near the beginning of the . . . surge, we’ll call it, I saw the face of an old man flash across the screen, briefly. He was glowing and he looked very angry . . . A few of the people I’ve spoken to since then mentioned seeing similar things. I think the lost mind of an evil technomancer is hidden in Fort’s wirings. I’ve heard that some technomancers can project their minds into computers, so it seems plausible. I’ve been doing what research I can—”
“Westley, don’t tell anyone there’s a ghost technomancer running amok in the wires,” Fitzpatrick groaned.
“I’m not telling anyone that, I’m just asking if the few people with computer access saw something strange, something the guardian technomancer should look into.”
“Soul sanctum,” 64Bit said, shaking his head.
Westley looked at 64Bit. “Huh?”
“No—what you said isn’t possible. Scripture is very clear.” 64Bit rattled off some summarized information. “The soul must reside in the body or another place specially prepared by the Creator: soul sanctum. It’s not possible for a dark technomancer’s soul to be trapped in the software of the settlement. It’s also not possible for the dark technomancer’s mind to survive the death of his body, so don’t go assuming that his mind is wandering around outside of his brain, either. That’s not even considering the assumption in such an argument that the mind and soul are entirely separate things. A dark technomancer—any technomancer—would need to manually—or wirelessly—connect to Fort to do such a thing.”
“Then why would an image of an old man with glowing eyes and a glowing mouth have been projected across the settlement?” Westley asked. “How would that be related to the power surge? Just because they happened at the same time doesn’t mean they are related.”
Memory of the master as he contained the energy surge from the particle battery appeared in 64Bit’s mind. The master’s eyes and mouth had nearly become spotlights of green energy. “Possible overloading of augmentations that allow the master to transmit wireless signal, temporarily increasing its range, at the risk of burnout,” 64Bit muttered. “Would create a very noticeable signal to anyone . . . already looking for someone.” The arm with the tracker.
“What are you saying?” Westley said. “Are you talking to yourself?”
“Leave him be,” Governor Fitzpatrick said. He took Westley by the arm and steered him away. “He answered your question— the guardian technomancer has it under control. Have some confidence. They were built to handle this stuff.” He nodded at 64Bit, said, “Goodnight,” then walked down the hallway with Westley, who shortly began talking again, though 64Bit had already stopped listening.
“The dead tree in the mountains,” 64Bit continued muttering to himself. “The rozie head. Whatever an Id is, from the vision. The master’s signal. Fried suppressors,” 64Bit whispered to himself. He shivered. He would check on the master tonight, and if it didn’t appear that the master would wake soon, then he would speak to Nix in the morning and reveal everything. “But Richard and Kayla found the rozie head deeper in the valley, not in the mountains like the vision. Could all be a coincidence—the simplest answer is often the best answer.” 64Bit shook his head. He recognized that his logic was being clouded by his hopes but felt too tired to untangle the two.
Lost in thought, 64Bit walked home, alone.
#
THE SPECKLES ON the cold stone wall before Hannah were not evenly distributed. She had the location of each one memorized by now—a dense cluster here that created the vague shape of a swirl, then several inches up, a dispersed cloud of black dots on gray stone, then down and to the left, a nearly empty space, and so forth. It was more variety than Hannah wanted, but it was what she had settled for.
Shuffling sounded from the hallway. Hannah remained facing the wall as the door to the room slid into the ground. It didn’t affect the lighting at all—Id’s factory remained in near-darkness, everything just barely visible from an ethereal light with no clear source.
“She wishes to see you,” a rozie said. Its words came out choppy and poorly formed.
Hannah stared a moment longer, then began to follow the rozie. It led her back to Id’s control room, where Id was still in front of her control desk. As Hannah entered the room, one of the tubes rising from Id’s back into the ceiling emitted a gurgling noise for just a moment, then quieted.
Thrum. Thrum. The blissful nothing that Hannah had felt moments before began to bleed into a familiar ache.
Id turned and faced Hannah, her feet swaying just above the ground. We need to hasten.
Hannah nodded. After a moment of staring at each other, she said, “Why?”
I’m not certain the elder will live, Id said. Something happened earlier today—a signal was released that I felt from a distance, without specifically looking for it. I didn’t review it until now. The elder is indisposed. Without his master, the acolyte should be unable to even inconvenience us.
“How soon do we leave?” Hannah asked.
Id’s lip twitched. Not soon enough. Not nearly soon enough. The imprinting will be finished in a day, maybe two. I want you present while I imprint more commands. It will be faster, easier, if the rozies simply follow your lead.
“The Enlightened,” Hannah corrected.
Whatever you wish to call them. Id’s eyes closed.
“Where will I be leading them?”
Across the mountains. Go now, to the bottom floors, and collect the others.
#
THE WIDE, ONE-STORY building he called home also seemed tired as 64Bit approached it. The roof outside sagged, looking deflated; the peeling paint appeared droopier than usual. 64Bit walked through the sliding front door and dropped his backpack in the kitchen before heading toward his room, resolving to dispose of the head in the morning.
“I need—I should make a list of supplies,” 64Bit mumbled, but wasn’t certain what he would bring. He generally avoided leaving his home, let alone Fort. “Some food. Water. Spare robes. What for my feet?” He looked down at his slippers. They were very comfortable in his home, but they didn’t handle the hard roads of Fort well. But the forest outside Fort consisted of somewhat loamy, soft soil, so he imagined that his slippers would suffice outside the settlement’s walls.
64Bit paused at the branch in the hallways. Most of what he needed to prepare was in his room—as was his bed. But he felt strained in a way that would make sleep difficult. He needed to get a few things off his chest. He walked past his room, toward the master’s open door, and saw Cortex kneeling before the master’s bed.
“Oh Creator,” Cortex prayed, face nearly pressed against the wooden floor. “I’m so stupid. I mess everything up. I’m so sorry. Please heal my master. I want to be better, I promise. I just want to understand things. Please give me something to be good at. And I don’t want to be a kid anymore. I messed up so bad. Please, send someone to help me. Oh Creator, please heal my master . . .” Cortex repeated his prayer, idea for idea, twice, before 64Bit began to wonder how long the boy had been there, crying and praying.
“I, too, came here for comfort,” 64Bit whispered. He paused, hopeful that Cortex hadn’t heard that, then walked forward, hesitated, and laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder.
Cortex stiffened, then leaned into 64Bit’s hand. His crying softened and his praying ceased.
“He’s going to wake up soon,” 64Bit said, almost believing himself.
“The patient’s condition is stable,” the medkit said from its corner of the room. “While he will require continued care, the only medicine that will determine whether he awakes is time.”
Cortex shook his head, remaining silent. After a few moments, he pushed off 64Bit’s hand, stood, and left the room. In the hallway he paused and turned toward 64Bit but didn’t look up. “I checked all the suppressors. Several have been destroyed. Many of the ones that looked fine on the outside were damaged on the inside. I left the report on your bed. The house’s systems are down, too.”
64Bit shook his head. “I turned them off. There’s a note in your room.” He took a deep breath. “Cortex, I need to leave for a time—the governor ordered it. I need you to be in charge here while I’m gone. It won’t take long.” Cortex nodded slowly, shoulders bowed, then walked away.
64Bit watched the empty doorway for a moment, then turned and knelt by the side of the master’s bed. He wanted to speak to his master, to tell him what had happened, to confess his lies and guilt, but the words didn’t come to his tongue. The governor’s words lingered in his mind: Besides, you technomancers are a mysterious lot. I can’t even imagine what tricks you have up your sleeves.
“You technomancers,” 64Bit whispered. That included him.
He began having second thoughts about admitting anything to Nix the next morning.
The master’s nose twitched in his sleep. His breathing remained shallow. The bags under his eyes seemed deeper than usual.
“I won’t let you down,” 64Bit whispered. “I’ll do what I can to hold everything together. Just wake up soon.” He paused for a moment. “Goodnight.”
64Bit arose and stumbled to his room. He intended to pack a little and read Cortex’s report before falling to sleep, but moments after sitting in his bed, papers in hand, he found himself leaning sideways, then his head was on his pillow, and then his eye screens were shutting off.
He briefly wondered if he was being watched before falling unconscious.
Copyright © 2023 by David Ludlow
Boo Ludlow 