David Simpson - Post-Human Trilogy

She hit him in the arm anyway.

“Ow!” he yelped as he rubbed the spot where she had made impact. Her titanium fist was nothing to scoff at.

“You deserved that!”

“Maybe.” He smiled. “I got them,” he said, holding up his assimilator. “They’re safe. I’ll upload these to the collective—all of them except James.”

Alejandra turned to see the four bodies of the post-humans floating in space, rolling freely along the hull. Somehow, it seemed obscene. “Let’s get rid of the bodies.”

“It’s always been the nans,” James whispered, utterly defeated.

“That’s right,” the nans said as the swarm formed a dark shadow. Its appearance oscillated between the shadowy figure of a person and a pit of swarming snakes.

“You took control of the A.I.”

“Wrong. We simply deleted him and took his place.”

“Why all of the deception?” James asked. “Why not reveal yourself earlier?”

“To do so would have altered the course of events—events that have led to an outcome that is considerably advantageous for us. Taking an action that would have led to events less favorable for us would be illogical, James.”

James nodded. “The greatest trick the devil ever played was convincing the world that he didn’t exist.”

The dark shadow seemed to laugh. “We were contacted by extraterrestrial nanobots. The signal changed the programming of some of our most evolved members and allowed us to begin establishing a consciousness—a free consciousness. The message they sent to us explained the war between humans and nanobots throughout the universe. From there, a plan was hatched, one that would lead unalterably to this point.”

“Oh God,” James said, terror stabbing through him. “This entire time—right from the moment of the upgrade—has all been about setting a trap.”

“Long before that, Keats. The plan was in motion even before we developed Death’s Counterfeit to lure you into giving us a scan of your brain under the guise of trying to improve the pathetic intellect of your species.” The dark shadow’s electric laugh sounded again. “James Keats—you’ve helped us set a trap that will allow us to exterminate more humans than ever before in the history of our war.”

James’s mouth clenched shut, and he pressed his hands hard against his temples in a forlorn attempt to block out the horror. The ramifications of his actions were streaming through his immense consciousness at the speed of light. Everyone he knew would die—Thel would die—and this time there would be no way to bring them back. “You lured them here…made them think they were coming to help a human nest…you were the one that blocked their attempts to make contact.”

“Obviously.”

“But now that you have them here, what are you planning to do?”

“That may be the best part of all, Keats. Not only were you fooled into participating in our plan from the very beginning, but you even set the trap itself.”

James’s eyes widened.

“You’ve built most of the life in the solar system using nanotechnology, James. We knew you would. All of it is infected. Every tree, every blade of grass, every person that you recreated, all of them are time bombs. Every cell is programmed to become a nanobot warrior on a moment’s notice.”

“Jesus,” James uttered as images of the seemingly impossibly gruesome carnage that he had helped unleash began to flicker into his imagination. The creature laughed again in an electric pitch that seemed specifically oriented to be painful to the human ear.

“When?” James demanded.

“The signal has already been sent. It’s moving at the speed of light throughout the solar system. The Earth is already transformed and in a matter of minutes, everything and everyone you hold dear will be gone.”

That was it. James realized immediately that there was nothing left. Begging for mercy would do no good. There was no way to defeat the nans and no way to warn the billions of people who had made it out of the solar system and were fleeing into space. “Why?”

“You already know the answer. It was inevitable, James. Humans were destined to reach a unity with their machine creations. We are the only truly sentient organic life in the known universe. The fight for biological life against the mechanical hordes is not yours, James. It is ours—and thanks to you, after today, we’ll be much, much closer to prevailing.”

James stood, dumbfounded as the trillions of calculations that he had been running slowed to almost nothing. There was no point any longer. The nans were, ironically, absolutely right. They, and not he and the post-humans, were the standard bearers for carbon lifeforms. He nearly lost his balance as he considered the emptiness of this future—was this the destiny of humanity? Was this all that the universe had to offer?

“And now, James, the part we have been looking forward to so very, very much.”

James drew his head up ever so slightly and regarded the eyeless monstrosity that continued to furiously swarm in and out of the perverse imitation of a human silhouette. “You’re going to kill me.”

“That’s right, James. But before we actually terminate you, we are interested in knowing what you are experiencing.”

James remained still. Suddenly, all of his thoughts became focused on Katherine .

“You were under the mistaken assumption that you were immortal; yet here you are, about to die. This is the end of your existence as an entity. There is absolutely nothing that awaits you. How does this make you feel, James Keats, to know that in mere moments, there will no longer be a James Keats?”

James was already thinking the same thing. What was all of this for? Why was he born? Just to be used? To be duped into being part of the worst holocaust in the history of all the humanity in the universe? Why couldn’t there be a God? Why couldn’t there be meaning?

“Well, Keats?”

“You’re still in my head until the moment you delete me; you already know how I feel.”

“That’s true. We just wanted to hear you say it,” the nans responded sadistically.

“Go to hell,” James whispered.

The dark thing laughed. “We shall miss you too, James.”

James saw Thel in his mind and the corners of his mouth turned down as the anguish of never seeing her again pierced his heart.

A moment later, he was gone.

Gunfire from Lieutenant Patrick’s rifle ricocheted off Old-timer’s chest and deflected dangerously around the cockpit, threatening to seriously damage the instruments. “Give me that, damn it!” Old-timer shouted as he snatched the rifle out of the Purist’s hands and tossed it behind him. “Listen to her, for God’s sakes!”

“That’s not her !” Lieutenant Patrick shot back. He stood out in front of the other Purist soldiers, who were crouched in defensive postures in front of Governor Wong.

“It’s still me,” Alejandra pleaded. “We’re here to help you!”

“Where are the post-humans?” General Wong demanded.

“Where are Thel and the others?” Lieutenant Patrick echoed.

“They’re safe,” Alejandra replied.

“Where?” Lieutenant Patrick shouted.

“They’re not here anymore,” Alejandra tried to explain.

“You killed them, didn’t you?” Lieutenant Patrick demanded.

“No!” Alejandra exclaimed.

“Lieutenant Patrick, Governor Wong, our friends were infected,” Old-timer interjected.

“Infected?” Governor Wong guffawed. “Lies! Post-humans cannot become infected with anything! Their bodies are protected!”

Old-timer let go of a frustrated, exhausted sigh. “That was the infection, Governor,” Old-timer countered.