I’m sure you’ve heard stories aimed to shame or smear this movement. All are unequivocally lies.
Arnon D’Bvaym
64BIT HELD TIGHT to the side of the trailer with one hand, his staff in the other, as Khalil crested a large pile of debris with the ATV and began crawling down the other side. The trailer bucked as it followed the ATV from incline to decline, nearly throwing 64Bit off.
“This road never ends,” 64Bit muttered, wondering if the ATV really was faster than travelling by foot. The combination of full-grown trees and forgotten old-world suburban roads, homes, and refuse proved quite the obstacle course to navigate. They encountered the occasional car with broken windows, flattened tires, and weeds growing out of its seats, sometimes sitting in the middle of their path; when it was just one or two, Khalil went around them, driving on the overgrown remains of yards, but sometimes groups of cars, or broken buildings, or inexplicably broken-up terrain forced them to turn around and try another route.
From the walls of Fort, the forest had looked so thick and natural. 64Bit would never have imagined so much of the old world could be hidden behind a thick cover of branches and bark.
The ATV braked; Khalil turned and grinned. Didn’t manage to throw you off that time? I’ll have to try harder! He laughed, a sound made raw by his throat, but which somehow became a joyful noise anyway. It will not be so bad past this part. The buildings are a little more crowded here, but as we get close to the mountains, things start spreading out.
Richard pointed. “I think we can save some time if we cut through that field, Khalil. As long as you think you can manage that ditch.”
Khalil stood on the ATV and examined the ground ahead of him, then found a wide, shallow stretch of the ditch he was able to safely bring the ATV through. 64Bit was nearly thrown from the trailer again as it dropped into the ditch and then popped out the other side. He rubbed at a bruise on his hip where he had knocked against the trailer’s railing. An electric tingle ran down his neck; 64Bit looked behind him quickly. He saw a rusted jungle gym missing its slides, the frame sending long shadows that reached the edge of the old park, and a few yellow-white spots in the dirt that he suspected would reveal bones if uncovered.
“Do you see something?” Richard asked. He turned and followed 64Bit’s gaze, eyes narrowed.
64Bit shook his head. “All day I’ve felt something. But no.”
Richard grunted.
Khalil snapped his fingers a few times and pointed to the side. 64Bit followed his gaze and stiffened. Leaning against a car, covered in cracked synthetic skin, was a rozie. It was clearly dead, based on the creepers that had crawled up its metal frame and a single flower growing out of one of its eye sockets. 64Bit narrowed his eyes, but wondered what this place’s story was, once.
Probably the same as everywhere else. Life happened. Rozies were invented, embraced, and recklessly produced. Something went wrong. The Fall of Man followed.
“That was the first rozie I ever got close enough to touch,” Richard whispered. His eyes followed it as they passed. “There’s a few of them out here in the boneyards, but far more human bones than rozies. Helps make the job that much more real, more serious.”
64Bit wondered if the rozie had any working parts left in it. Rozies were made with very sophisticated tech, which was why they lasted so long and were so hard to destroy. Probably a lot of value could be scavenged even from that dead, ancient rozie. He didn’t mention that to Richard, though.
An hour or so later, Khalil parked at the side of a large, open field covered in tall grass. By this point, the world below the trees had become a mysterious, unnerving place, with long shadows making branches look like claws. Richard shooed 64Bit off the trailer and began concealing the ATV and trailer with branches and other foliage while Khalil grabbed several items out of the trailer and marched into the field.
64Bit looked around and wished the master had already taught him how to sense rozies. He imagined that would be the most useful thing for him to do right now—look for the subtle signals that they emitted. He settled for keeping his eye screens on and looking every which way, hoping that it would help Richard and Khalil feel secure.
“This is the place?” 64Bit asked. He looked back at Khalil, but Khalil’s hands were full. The man nodded at Richard, who was placing another branch over the ATV.
“Not where we found the head,” Richard said, “but it’s close enough, and we can hole up here for the night, continue in the morning when everyone can see. I’ve heard that technomancers can see in the dark. Khalil and I don’t have that luxury. Plus, won’t hurt to be rested when we get to where the head was found.”
“Flashlights,” 64Bit said.
“What?” Richard asked.
“Technomancers don’t see in the dark—though most can emit light from this port in our foreheads,” 64Bit said as he touched the glass port in his own. “My eye screens can see in full dark, but that’s a unique function. Normal eyes can’t do that.”
Richard shrugged. “Well, I was basically right.” 64Bit looked closely at his camouflaging of the ATV. He doubted it would have tricked him in the light, but covered in shadows, the ATV and trailer looked like a large bush, or perhaps an old car that had been consumed by nature. Even the trailer wasn’t fully recognizable.
“Where are we sleeping?” 64Bit looked at a house nearby with a tree growing out of its roof and shivered. He hoped the house wasn’t an option—he’d spend all night afraid the thing was going to collapse.
“No, not one of those. We’ve got something a little more secure in mind.” Richard grabbed an armful of supplies from the trailer and followed Khalil. 64Bit noted that Richard and Khalil were carrying far too much food, water, and other items for one night, but didn’t want to look ignorant by questioning them further. As he followed the two, he noted with displeasure how many twigs, burrs, and leaves stuck to his slippers. They wouldn’t remain comfortable for long. And they did nothing to protect him when he stepped on a rock or branch.
Passing a tree, 64Bit caught sight of Khalil again, his stuff on the ground beside him as his hands ran through the dirt. He caught hold of the edge of something and lifted it slightly, then reached underneath with his free hand and fiddled around. He then lifted the thing entirely, revealing it to be a trapdoor covered in rocks and foliage. Khalil swung his legs inside and climbed down into the earth.
As Khalil’s head disappeared, 64Bit said, “That was unexpected.”
Richard nodded. “We’ve constructed bolt-holes all over the valley, mostly clustered near the farm fields. I’ve never needed to use them for survival, but older scouts talk about how they wish they had these things when Fort was founded. The bolt-holes also happen to be more cozy and secure than sleeping under the stars.”
Now at the bolt-hole’s entrance, 64Bit looked down to see a sturdy wooden ladder that dropped ten feet to an open area lit by a lantern. Khalil stood by the bottom of the ladder and waved up at 64Bit. 64Bit looked at Richard. “The effort it must have taken to dig up and support these, not to mention maintaining them!”
“Smart leaders prepare for war during times of peace. I think this was the guardian technomancer’s idea, but no one really remembers. Plus, keeping these things stocked and in good condition is a good way to busy people.” Richard shrugged, then began dropping supplies down to Khalil. Khalil organized each item into wooden boxes that he’d dragged to the ladder. Once everything was in its place, Khalil slid the boxes out of view as Richard began climbing down. Before his head went under, Richard looked up at 64Bit. “There’s a latch on the wall that you can slide onto the hook under the door. The latch is attached to some bells, to alert us if anyone tries to force it open.”
64Bit nodded, then climbed into the hole after Richard reached the bottom. He fumbled a bit, wishing he had a third hand as he tried to maneuver the lock, hold on to his staff, and maintain a grip on the ladder, but eventually he got everything in place.
Once standing on the dirt floor, 64Bit glanced around the bolt-hole and observed its design. Wooden beams served as supports, bracing the walls and ceiling of the bolt-hole, while the ladder, which ran down one of the hole’s walls, ended in a small grate. 64Bit looked through it and found a pit that ended in gravel—a drainage system, 64Bit assumed. Khalil was putting a lid on one of the several wooden boxes which were pushed against a wall. He smiled and sat on the box. Storage, and a seat! Homey, no? he signed.
64Bit stamped a foot on the hard-packed dirt beneath him. Not his idea of a home, but there was something comfortable about it. 64Bit nodded.
“If you need to go to the bathroom,” Richard said as he rolled out some dusty blankets made of a coarse fabric, “Piss can go down the grate, just don’t splash the ladder. Dig a hole outside for anything else, but alert us before you leave.”
64Bit nodded and, seeing nothing else to do, sat down and leaned against one of bolt-hole’s support beams, resting his staff on his knees as he did so.
Khalil clapped his hands, and 64Bit turned on his eye screens to look at the man. Khalil signed, What does that thing do? Surely a metal staff in the hands of a technomancer isn’t merely a staff.
“Uh—it, well, it can repel rozies,” 64Bit said, hoping he understood the master’s stories correctly. “And freeze them, or . . . or drive them away. It’s like an antenna—technomancers are supposed to be able to do these things on their own, but the staff magnifies the signal.” 64Bit pressed his lips together. Supposed to be able? That was probably a dead giveaway that he had no idea what he was doing.
But Khalil nodded, then looked over at Richard, who was already lying down on a blanket with his eyes closed. Khalil clapped his hands, frowned, and clapped again. Richard didn’t respond, so Khalil walked over and shook the man’s shoulder. Richard opened one eye and signed, Let me rest, Khalil.
But this is the best part of the journey! Khalil signed back. You don’t want to sit around our little campfire—Khalil gestured at a flickering lantern he had set out—and share stories? I want to see the technomancer’s face when you tell him about the time you thought you could make it from Fort’s wall to a nearby tree in one leap.
Let me rest, Richard signed before dropping his head and closing his eyes. He continued signing. It’s been a long day already, and it’s a longer day tomorrow. Let’s plan on an early start tomorrow. If we don’t find any rozies, we can swap stories on the way back.
Khalil protested—I can’t drive and share stories at the same time—but Richard’s eyes remained shut. Khalil slapped Richard’s shoulder and moved to sit on his own blanket, pulling some flat bread out of his pocket as he did so. Khalil sat, munching, as he looked at 64Bit. Hey, got any interesting stories? he asked.
64Bit blinked.
Your face looks like I just threatened you. Come on, it’s not hard! Here, I’ll start. Khalil grinned. So, it was combat training, and Richard and I were newer to this scouting thing, yeah? Davon—he was head of training at that time, resting with God now—split us up and I ended up fighting this guy who hated me. He thought I didn’t belong anywhere near the scouts, on account of my missing tongue. Real blowhard. Anyway, he’s a bit taller than me, but I’m a bit heavier; his arms are a bit longer, but I manage my feet a bit better. So, we’re more or less even, yeah?
64Bit found himself nodding along. Khalil was a little like the master, with energy and interest that shone through as he spoke, but Khalil’s story felt like a conversation, while the master’s had always felt like he was reading from a book.
Man starts out swinging for my head, right at my face and jaw. This is supposed to be mostly friendly sparring, as our hands are wrapped in cloth and we don’t actually want to seriously hurt anyone, but when the air whistles as this guy’s fist flies past my ear, I know he’s out for blood. No matter. I try to kick at his knee, he shuffles out of the way and tries to hit a pressure point in my arm, I redirect his punch into open air—fun stuff. Then he catches me with a full-on punch to my gut. Khalil suddenly sucked his stomach in and arched his back, eyes bugging and lips pursed as he held his arms out like he was being thrown backward. The story continued. And that should have been the end of it, but he followed with a strike to my side, then my back! Now, I didn’t make a sound, mind you—I’m pretty good at keeping quiet, even when it hurts—but since Davon didn’t call it, I knew it was up to me to get myself out of that mess. I spun, managed to redirect another blow, then looked at him in the face and just screamed.
Khalil threw his head back and opened his mouth wide. Neck tense, the man mimed screaming his head off for a second. Then his eyes snapped back to 64Bit. His face! He had never heard me make a sound before, and I have never seen a man more surprised—or alarmed—in my entire life! Wish I could have taken a picture. Anyway, I wanted to end it immediately, so I kicked him right in the fork of his legs. I hit, but I also missed . . . Khalil motioned at the long, flat top of his foot. Wanted to hit him with this; instead, caught him right with the tip of my heavy hiking boots. Man had to go to the guardian technomancer for care immediately. Never did mess with me again, though. Khalil grinned.
64Bit found himself so engrossed in Khalil’s story that he realized he was tensing and had a hand protectively cupping his crotch by the end of it. “That . . . Yes, very well done.”
Hah! I wish I could get a picture of your face, too, Khalil said, pointing at 64Bit. He waved a hand airily. I also have stories that are much lighter-hearted than that. But now—your turn!
“Um,” 64Bit said, racking his brain. He spent his days largely indoors, studying, building computers, and being trained by the master in surgery, engineering, coding, and more. He wasn’t certain that he had any stories that were interesting, and he certainly didn’t have anything along the lines of what Khalil had shared.
There’s no way a technomancer doesn’t have something interesting to share, Khalil said. Come on! Doesn’t even have to be your story. You share something with me, and I’ll share the fiasco that got Richard saddled with Kayla in the first place.
64Bit paused again, then saw his master’s face, alit from the inside, mouth and eyes turned into green-glowing beacons. He saw a great, dead tree in the mountains, its upside-down branches breaking down the walls of Fort. He saw himself running from the settlement on Khalil’s ATV, running away from the destruction.
“No . . . that’s not right. I’m here to help,” 64Bit whispered. “Where the rozie head was found—that’s where I’m needed.” He didn’t find himself very convincing.
Huh? Khalil signed.
64Bit shook his head. He felt cold and, despite being near Richard and Khalil, he felt lonely in the little bolt-hole. The darkness at the edges of the little lantern’s light seemed to become heavier.
“I am too tired,” 64Bit said. He dropped to his side, whispered a quick prayer, and turned his eye screens off. He heard some shuffling behind him, then the lantern’s light turned off.
Copyright © 2023 by David Ludlow
Boo Ludlow 