I will not stop revising and iterating until the E10 unit is ready for mass consumption without compromise.
Arnon D’Bvaym
RICHARD AND KAYLA went bone white and very, very still. “We should have died in the forest, rather than bring this home with us,” Kayla said. Richard remained silent, staring at the arm. A vein pulsed in his forehead.
64Bit opened the scanning machine and began removing the head and the arm. “You’re very lucky that I isolated this machine,” he said.
“Why?” Kayla asked. “What difference does it make?”
“Why?” 64Bit exhaled as he picked up the head and arm, finding their combined weight uncomfortable. “This arm isn’t designed to be able to send up much of a signal. It could be read within a few hundred yards fairly clearly, but if anyone were reading that, it would mean they were already in the settlement. But there was a virus included in the tracker that would have infected the home network and used our communications to broadcast our signal. This rozie almost certainly is being tracked by a dark technomancer.”
Branches stabbing the earth. Fort’s walls crumbling. Id.
“Stay focused,” 64Bit breathed to himself.
Richard shook his head. “I take responsibility for this. I didn’t want to cause a panic. The last time rozies entered this valley, what it did to the scouts that tried to stop them . . . we remember. And some are still scared. Our commanding officer was unavailable, and . . . well, only the guardian, we thought, would be prepared for this.” As Richard spoke, Kayla shook her head as if she disagreed with something he said.
It had been several years since a rozie had been spotted near Fort. The last group, just three rozies, tore to pieces six of the seven scouts that ambushed them. 64Bit’s stomach knotted painfully.
So what next?
“Cortex is checking the suppressors,” 64Bit whispered. “We can push the strength of the suppressors’ pulse for the next few days, try to make the settlement invisible to any nearby rozies. It’s a start. Fix the satellite, contact the Binary, pray for something that will help the master more quickly. There’s some hope. But we need more . . .” 64Bit looked down at the thing in his arms. He couldn’t tell anyone that the master was comatose— particularly not these two irresponsible scouts.
64Bit felt himself begin to shake. He hoped it looked like he was struggling with the weight of the rozie parts. “Wait here,” he squeaked at Richard and Kayla, then fled the room. He scrambled down the hallway, squeezed through the forge room’s partially open door, and collapsed to the ground once inside, letting the head roll away and the arm flop beside him. 64Bit could not cry; the same operation that had replaced his eyes with screens had also removed his tear ducts. All the same, he felt pressure around his eye screens as if he were crying. He grabbed handfuls of his robes and squeezed till his knuckles turned white, clenching his jaw together. He wanted to pray for strength and for comfort, but he couldn’t bring the words to his lips—something inside him had shifted to a place where he couldn’t reach it.
Hope, hope, hope—blindly, if necessary, 64Bit thought. Better blind hope than nothing, if it keeps me from being paralyzed. The master could do this—the master could handle this. If I could just strive to be a copy of him . . .
Several minutes later, knees and lower back aching, 64Bit collapsed to his side. He wiped his nose on his sleeve and focused on evening his breathing. All was not lost yet. Something could be done. And he was needed. Well, not 64Bit specifically— Fort needed hope and confidence: a guardian technomancer. 64Bit could present that image and hold things together until the master awoke. The master had to get better. And then he would help the settlement weather whatever storm came. And then 64Bit would ask him about his strange, half-conscious words, about his remotely stored cerebral enhancement units.
With a thought, 64Bit had the current time appear on his eye screens. He would be late, but if he moved quickly, he could catch the end of a council meeting. The governor didn’t need to know about the master’s condition, but if he were aware of the rozie threat, he could begin subtle preparations . . .
64Bit rolled to his knees, then climbed to his feet. He set the forge to an incineration cycle and tossed the rozie arm inside, then stopped just before doing the same with the head; it was evidence. Seeing it would also motivate everyone in the council room to just act, hopefully quashing questions about the master. 64Bit looked around, found a pencil and paper, and scribbled a note: Headed to council meeting. Will update you when I get back. Leave the report on my bed. Check on the master, then rest or, if not an option, regular chores are fine. He then stood to leave the room.
On his way to deposit the note in Cortex’s room, collect Kayla and Richard, grab his backpack to transport the head, and leave for the council meeting, 64Bit peeked into the master’s room. The old man’s white hair looked dreadfully thin, like cobwebs fanned out beside his head—what hair wasn’t burned off, anyway. The medkit sat at the foot of his bed, its holographic head turned off; its black, rectangular body looked like a small coffin. 64Bit placed a palm over his heart, spoke the words of a prayer for his master, and left the room.
When 64Bit at last reached the lab, having grabbed his backpack from his room, Richard and Kayla were standing on opposite sides of the room, not looking at each other.
“We’re going to the council meeting,” 64Bit said. “You’re coming with me.”
Kayla nodded. “You can do that? Just walk in on a meeting? We might have gone there first if that was an option.”
Richard gave Kayla a long-suffering look, then turned to 64Bit. “You need us? You already have the head, and you know exactly what happened.”
64Bit shook his head. “You two need to report directly—and it’ll look better for you if you’re there, rather than me telling them that you dropped the head off and then ran away.”
Richard nodded, resignation written on his face.
64Bit turned away and waved for the two to follow him. As he exited the lab, he heard Richard mutter to Kayla, “Yet again you get us all in trouble, little barbarian . . .”
#
THE BRIGHT AFTERNOON sun warmed 64Bit’s face and energized his limbs. He walked through an old-world suburb—two-and three-story buildings with faded and cracked siding and boarded-up windows lined the broken and dusty asphalt roads, while ramshackle shanty houses crowded the spaces between larger homes and filled the yards behind them. The people he walked past were hardened—eyes set like flint, dirt on their faces, and ragged clothing covered in patches. But despite the hardness and age that surrounded him, there was also a strong sense of life and vitality to Fort. Strangers occasionally smiled as they passed by; children ran about in the streets or on rooftops, watched by eagle-eyed mothers; and cats chased rats in the shadows between homes.
64Bit couldn’t help but notice a bubble of space forming around him as he walked down the streets. He rubbed a hand over his shaved head and wondered if he should let his hair grow out, like Cortex, so that it obscured the port in his forehead— then again, that would do nothing to obscure his screen eyes. Only Kayla and Richard stayed somewhat close, both walking several steps behind him and conversing quietly.
A child with orange hair watched 64Bit walk by from behind his mother’s legs. He sucked his thumb vigorously while his mother bartered over an item of clothing. When 64Bit looked at him, he hid his face behind his mother’s leg. The mother gave 64Bit an uneasy look, but the man she was trading with offered a tight smile and placed a palm over his heart. 64Bit returned the gesture—likely the man was just being polite, as technomancers did not proselytize.
64Bit wished that he were back inside his home. It didn’t take long for the hot sun to make his head feel uncomfortably warm, and his slippers did little to protect his feet from the rough ground. In addition, the bag with the rozie head was quickly growing heavy on his back. He wrinkled his nose more than once as he passed feces in the road—human or animal, he couldn’t tell. Fort was privileged, compared to any other long-term settlement that 64Bit was aware of, to have over half its buildings on power and water rations; but those were primarily used for cooking and drinking, not sewage. Perhaps more could have been done to improve hygiene and comfort, but the master was already concerned with how visible Fort was—not just visually. The settlement’s electric presence far exceeded anything else in the area. It was a miracle that the settlement hadn’t been discovered and attacked by a dark technomancer years before.
“All possible because of him,” 64Bit muttered. His shoes felt very, very large on his feet.
Beyond the densely concentrated buildings, the walls of Fort loomed, made of metal plating in some places, wooden posts or concrete in others. Silver cylinders covered in mesh protruded from the top of the wall every dozen yards—the suppressors capable of disguising the settlement from rozies and, in some cases, even driving them away. From where he stood, 64Bit already noticed that one suppressor was missing, and in its place the timbered wall was scorched. That didn’t bode well—but at least it didn’t take the wall with it. He picked up his pace. Now wasn’t the time for gawking.
Winding through Fort’s streets took some time, but eventually the city hall came into view. The city hall sat near Fort’s entrance, within throwing distance of the metal gates that guarded the settlement’s primary portal—the gates with the rozie crucified to the wall above them. Converted from a school building, the city hall was made of red brick, and it leaned slightly. 64Bit nodded at the plainclothes guards lounging around the entrance and walked in—they took one look at the port in his forehead and asked no questions. After a few steps, he heard an indignant shout behind him.
“We’re with him! We’re going to the council!” Kayla said, trying to shake her arm out of a guard’s grip. “And I’m a scout!”
“Kayla, you’re not helping your case,” Richard groaned. He grabbed Kayla’s shoulder and pulled her back as the guard released her. She stood in the street and glared, but Richard looked at the two men and smiled. “We’re very sorry. I understand if you don’t believe us, but if you check with the guardian’s acolyte, he’ll confirm we’re his company.”
The two guards looked at each other, then one looked back at 64Bit. 64Bit nodded. The guards resumed their positions, allowing Richard and Kayla to walk through. “We were obviously with the technomancer . . .” Kayla grumbled.
Richard smiled and nodded gregariously at a guard as he walked past, then become more serious when he saw 64Bit observing him. “Should we have let you handle it, sir?”
“It didn’t matter,” 64Bit said. He turned on his heel and walked deeper into the building. Lockers lined the walls, each dented and scratched. The doors to the cafeteria were halfway down the hall. The cafeteria had been converted into the council’s meeting room, mostly because it was large enough to have some Forters present for open meetings. 64Bit noted a young man standing in front of the doors to the room, peering inside. As 64Bit approached, he turned, revealing blue eyes and sandy hair, and smiled brightly.
“Hello!” the young man said. “Here for the council meeting? They’re nearly done—in the middle of some heated discussion on overcrowding in the settlement and the possibility of resettling some people elsewhere. Regina, she pretty fiercely sees the need to expand, while Nix is much more obstinate that we need to—”
“Why are you spying on the council meeting?” 64Bit said.
The young man blinked, then ran a hand through his hair. “This looks bad, doesn’t it? My apologies—I’m Westley, the governor’s son.” He held out a hand. 64Bit looked at it, realized that Westley wanted to shake, and obliged with a very quick handshake. Westley’s eyes brightened. “Something very strange happened a few hours ago! Lights flickered like mad, doors opened and shut of their own accord, and a lot of appliances burned up. A few homes had to be doused for fire—I don’t believe anyone was hurt, definitely no one was killed anyway, but it certainly shook things up. So that’s why I’m here—I’ve interviewed a few people about what happened and wanted to share.”
Richard spoke up. “The gatesmen spoke to me about that earlier. Any idea what happened?”
Westley pulled open a notebook he had been carrying and scanned through it. “Well, a lot of the stories, people talked about the same sort of things, but nothing that really pointed me in a strong direction. There were superstitions and guesses, of course—ghosts, rozies, dark technomancers, dissidents, and anything else you can guess. Just walking around, it seemed to me that the damage was worse the closer you got to the center of the settlement. Talk is spreading like wildfire.”
64Bit swallowed. He didn’t like this line of inquiry—and with the settlement very nearly centered around the guardian technomancer’s house, it would only be a matter of time before prying brought more eyes on him. “The master—the guardian is already aware of this. A small power surge, that’s all. It’s taken care of.”
“That’s good,” Westley said, then frowned. “Really? I thought I was on to something. Ah well.” He raised an eyebrow and gave 64Bit an appraising look. “You’re the guardian’s apprentice, aren’t you?”
“Acolyte, to be precise,” 64Bit said. “An acolyte technomancer, thank you. May we go in?”
Westley looked at the doors to the council room as if he had forgotten they were there. “Hmm? Oh, absolutely! I guess— well, I suppose what I’ve found is no longer needed. Is that what you were already planning on speaking to them about?”
64Bit didn’t respond to Westley; he approached the door to the council room and opened it a crack, listening to hear if the meeting was already over.
“We’re talking ourselves in circles,” a basso voice said. That was Governor Fitzpatrick. “Regina, I have to say I’m sympathetic—I would like to lighten Fort’s load and allow those who are interested to move along. But Nix is correct that we simply aren’t prepared for such a move. The guardian technomancer won’t commit to how soon one of his acolytes could be appointed as the guardian of any new settlements—not to mention we’d need to find somewhere suitably distant, help keep Fort as unnoticed as possible. Two settlements in one valley is just asking for attention.”
“Not one rozie. For three years.” This voice was nasally— Regina, 64Bit recognized from a previous meeting. “Perhaps they’ve . . . decayed, or left this region, or whatever keeps making them has died or broken down. Their long night may be passing.”
“You speak flippantly.” This voice had a steel edge to it—Nix. “You forget the danger of the world we live in. I won’t casually put my scouts in danger.”
The sound of hands slapping the table. Regina shot back, “When will there ever not be danger? Was there no danger when Fort was originally founded? How un-apocalyptic does the world need to become for us to make changes? Danger and risk will never not be a factor, and we have never been more secure than we are now.”
“We are accounting for all of that,” Fitzpatrick sighed. “Look— I’ll speak to him again. Something needs to be done. We are all agreed there?”
There was a rumble of assent, several voices grudgingly. 64Bit shook his head and thought of what he carried. None of them understood the danger they may be in—the danger that 64Bit hoped was just a false alarm. He pushed the door open and walked inside.
The council members stopped talking and turned to look at 64Bit in surprise. Governor Fitzpatrick, a barrel-shaped man with dirty blond hair thicker on his arms than his head, asked, “What are you doing here, acolyte? Where is the guardian technomancer?”
64Bit looked up at the governor as he approached the table and was pleased that the man didn’t seem to respond to his screen eyes at all. In fact, his firm stare made 64Bit want to look away as worms of guilt for lies he hadn’t even told yet began to wriggle in his belly. “The guardian technomancer sent me to represent him—he is busy at the moment. But I’m here to represent him.”
“You said that already,” Nix said. He was a lean man with a hard stare that almost hurt. 64Bit looked away from him, too.
“Speak softly,” 64Bit said. “What I have to share shouldn’t leave this room—not unless Fort is well-prepared first. These two brought the guardian technomancer an urgent message that should have gone up the proper chain of command but, well, we might as well make use of the secrecy we have here.” He slung his backpack into his arms and dumped the rozie head on the table, where it rolled to the center and rested on a torn ear, glassy eyes staring into nothing.
Copyright © 2023 by David Ludlow
Boo Ludlow 