David Simpson - Post-Human Trilogy

Craig tried to reply, but only a groan emanated from him.

“They’ve been giving you Diprivan, a general anesthetic. They’re trying to bring you out from under it now, and I’m attempting to augment the process by releasing endorphins. You should be feeling much better in a few moments.”

The A.I. was right as, moments later, Craig was feeling oddly aware and confident. “What’s happening? Why are we here?”

“I haven’t been able to see much with you unconscious, but I have been able to hear snippets of conversations from time to time. From what I have gathered, they have brought in an expert who is leading the effort to remove the nanobots that house my mother program from your person.”

“How long was I out?”

“Nine hours and thirty minutes. We’ve been in Endurance Bio-Dome for at least four hours and eleven minutes, though I cannot be sure what time we entered because you were unconscious. Thus, obviously, your eyes were shut.”

“Good enough,” Craig replied.

“It’s amazing,” a familiar voice said from behind Craig. “You’re talking to it right now, aren’t you?”

“Who’s there?” Craig asked, surprised.

“You may not remember me,” the voice replied, “but I remember you.”

The woman to whom the voice belonged stepped out from behind Craig and crossed in front of him with a slight smile painted across her lips, revealing her still beautiful, if no longer perfectly white teeth.

“Daniella?” Craig exhaled, astonished.

Daniella’s smile broadened. “You remember.”

“You’re the expert they’re using to carve up my brain?” Craig reacted in disbelief.

“What? No,” Daniella replied, shaking her head. “I’m here to help you.”

“If you’re working for them, you’re not here to help me,” Craig replied.

“Whoa! Hold on there, cowboy,” Daniella responded with indignation. “I’m here to help you. Every member of my team is here to help you. If we didn’t have your best interest at heart, we’d just toss you into an industrial-sized blender and stick the goo that comes out into a centrifuge until we separate the nanobots. We could do that, you know. I’m not just being glib.”

“Nice.”

“But we obviously aren’t going that route,” Daniella added in exasperation. “We’re here to help you. Everyone here is filled with human compassion. Don’t worry. No matter how long it takes, we’ll get you back to normal.”

“What gives you the right to say what’s normal ?” Craig retorted.

Daniella was taken aback, her head tilting backward, as though she’d been tapped on the chin. “Uh, normal isn’t having an artificial intelligence stuck in your brain, cowboy,” she replied.

“There shouldn’t be a line,” Craig answered before turning his face from her and examining the room. For the most part, it was barren, dark, and circular, with one door on Craig’s left.

“There’s a guard stationed outside at all times—a super soldier, I’m afraid,” the A.I. noted.

“If there’s no line,” Daniella continued, “then how are we to know who’s human and who’s not?”

“An expert in nanotechnology is concerned that augmentation will lead to a blurring of the line between human and machine?” Craig observed.

Daniella paused for a moment, her eyebrows knitted. This was not what she had been expecting from Craig. She’d been expecting him to lavish her with praise, that he’d be thrilled that she was there to remove the A.I. infestation from his body. She’d assumed he’d think of it as a cancer, something eating away at his soul and killing him.

“Why are you helping them?” Craig suddenly asked, turning to her and staring hard into her eyes.

“ Them? Craig, we’re on the same team—or at least we were.”

“That’s right,” Craig nodded. “We were . I think you should take a real hard look at your teammates and ask yourself if you’re playing on the right side.”

Paine entered his quarters, shut the door behind him, and immediately doubled over in agony. It was not hyperbole to say his stomach felt as though he’d swallowed barbed wire for breakfast. An implacable nausea had settled over him, but he knew vomiting wouldn’t help; only blood would come up anyway. No, he needed to bear his burden.

He turned to his desk and swiped his hand over the OLED touchscreen, activating his holo-projectors. The Presidential Seal hovered in front of him, the seal of the ruler of the world. Paine grimaced while he stood waiting, staring into the seal and all that it meant. The Latin E pluribus unum was still inscribed on it, just as it had been when an earlier version was the Presidential Seal of the United States of America: “Out of many, one. ” It seemed so much more meaningful now, in the era of the one-world state.

As Paine became uncharacteristically lost in his thoughts, President Morgan’s image suddenly appeared in holographic form before him. “Mr. President,” Paine said in greeting as he saluted.

“Colonel Paine,” Morgan replied, saluting in return. He was an older gentleman, now in his late sixties, and his head was bald, despite the many cures for baldness that had been developed. His face was worn with lines, especially surrounding his eyes and lips. The wrinkles were different on him, however, than the lines that crisscrossed the faces of his citizens. His lines were smile lines, cheerful and grandfatherly. The lines that dotted the faces of most people in the post WWIII world were unnatural deformities, caused by the fallout that continued to surround the globe. By comparison, Morgan looked healthy—too healthy. “Let me offer you my congratulations. I’ve been kept abreast of your mission. You’ve done a man’s job for your country and your species, sir.”

“Thank you, Mr. President,” Paine replied.

“I almost couldn’t believe it when I read your initial report. The post-human technology was even more advanced than we’d previously believed. What were they called? Plack platforms or something?”

“Planck, sir. Yes, Mr. President.”

“Advanced stuff,” Morgan observed. “Dangerous. You did the right thing by trying to undo the damage done by that post-human in the other universes. I want you to know that I stand by you in that 100 percent. You’ll be immune to any subsequent attempts to indict you for your actions, rest assured.”

Paine tried not to grin—the idea of immunity seemed so absurd to him now. “Mr. President, it wasn’t exactly a post-human who was running around in those alternate universes.”

“I read the report, Colonel. One of your former men, wasn’t it?”

“Not only that, sir, but he’s a former American hero. He’s been a pawn in this all along, used by the post-humans. When this is over, sir, and the artificial intelligence has been removed from his body, I’d like to recommend that he receive the same immunity that you are kindly offering me.”

“That’s quite an endorsement of this fellow, Colonel Paine, especially considering everything he’s put you through.”

Paine took a moment to consider his next words. “He’s been misguided—you might even say brainwashed—but his actions always have noble intentions. I believe, if he knew the consequences for his actions, he’d understand.”

“Speaking of noble,” Morgan replied, “standing up for this man and risking your life to bring him back home is one of the noblest acts I have ever witnessed. You’ll receive the Medal of Freedom for this.”

“Thank you, sir. That’s very kind of you, sir. I’m honored.”

Morgan’s tone suddenly shifted. “However, in regard to this Craig Emilson, I’m afraid protecting him can no longer be our highest priority.”