David Simpson - Post-Human Trilogy

Craig shook his head, disgusted. “Quickly and decisively? You’re a murderer, Paine, no matter how you try to dress it up.” He turned back to Sanha. “These are the people you’re placing your trust in? And even if you did get your hands on the A.I., what makes you think it would agree to work for a pack of liars and murderers?”

“It would have to,” Sanha replied. “It’s programmed to act in the best interest of humanity. It would be against its programming to refuse.”

“Is that true?” Craig asked the A.I.

“Yes. If I were inserted into the mainframe as they describe, I would have to act in the best interest of humanity,” the A.I. answered. “However, that’s assuming they’re telling the truth. While Sanha is assuredly being sincere, I cannot get a reliable reading from Colonel Paine. His rapidly deteriorating health is making it impossible to accurately measure his physiological reactions.”

Craig nodded. “I don’t need lie-detection software to know not to trust a pathological liar and murderer. Professor, if you think these guys are going to do anything other than delete the A.I. once it’s been extracted, you’re crazy.”

Sanha’s eyes widened, the expression on his face suddenly filled with urgency as he stepped to Craig and grasped the front of his shirt. “For your own sake, please reconsider!”

“Professor,” Paine cautioned in barely more than a whisper, “that’s enough, sport.”

Sanha turned to his tormentor and bowed his head obediently. “Go on back to your quarters,” Paine ordered.

Sanha turned and, without daring to share another look with Craig, exited the room.

“I see he knows your true nature well enough,” Craig observed as the door closed behind Sanha.

“Heh,” Paine responded. “I just want to be clear on this, Doc, so I can go to meet my maker with a clean conscience. Are you saying you’re refusing to help us procure the services of the A.I., which would allow us to upload it into the worldwide surveillance system and put an end to this conflict once and for all?”

“I’m saying there’s no way in Hell that you’re getting this A.I.,” Craig replied, “and there’s even less chance that you’re going to be meeting your maker with a clean conscience.”

Paine’s face was frozen for a moment as he continued to stare into Craig’s eyes. As gruesome as his appearance had been previously, his pallid skin and gaunt face made him look even worse. He looked like death. Finally, he nodded. “Okay, Doc. Okay. Listen…I know I said earlier that I don’t regret what happened with your wife, but that’s not true. I do regret it.”

Craig’s expression turned from a determined resentment to pain as thoughts of his wife returned to the forefront of his consciousness; it was like pouring salt into an open wound.

“I wouldn’t have touched her if I’d have known you were still alive. I swear, I wouldn’t have. That was a mistake—something between me and Aldous Gibson. It was not about you, Doc. Never about you. There’d be no honor in that. I know you’re a good man. I’m sorry. I just wanted to say, I’m sorry.”

And with that, Paine turned slowly and walked out of the room, his former powerful stride now gone, replaced by the pained shuffle of an implacable mortality.

Paine hadn’t made it far down the hallway before Daniella marched herself into his path, her brow furrowed with an expression of disgust. “I received your orders, Colonel, and I won’t do it!”

“Those orders came directly from the President. If you won’t follow them,” Paine replied in a resigned monotone, “we’ll find someone else who will. Doesn’t matter to me.” He steered around her slowly and continued to plod his way down the hall.

“So that’s it?” she exclaimed, aghast. “Don’t you think he would’ve cooperated if you’d told him the consequences for him if he didn’t?”

Paine stopped and turned back to her. “That wouldn’t be cooperation, Doctor. That would be surrender . That’s a good soldier in there, and I’ve already done too much evil to him. I won’t add to it by making him into a coward too. There’s no honor in it—for either of us. No.” He placed his hand on his stomach once again to soothe away yet another wrenching cramp. Unable to eat or drink, he was quickly becoming exhausted. “Do me a favor, Doctor. Make sure he gets a last meal—something special. And then do what you have to do.”

“ Behead him ? Never!”

“I already told you, Doctor. If it’s not done by midnight, I’ll pass the job to the next most capable member of your team.” He turned away and continued his plodding pace as he added over his shoulder, “And you’ll be executed for disobeying a direct order from the President.”

“What’s wrong?” Craig asked Daniella as she stood on the opposite end of the room, trying to control the shaking of her body.

“Nothing,” she replied in barely more than a whisper.

“100 percent untruthful,” the A.I. observed.

Craig’s eyes narrowed. “Your time just ran out, didn’t it? They ordered you to get the A.I. out of my head by any means necessary, didn’t they?”

Daniella didn’t reply. She lowered her eyes, unable to maintain eye contact any longer as she considered her dilemma. She didn’t want to die; that much she was sure of. She was equally sure that she couldn’t willingly harm Craig; she didn’t need to have taken an oath to affirm that. So what could she do?

“Still think you’re playing for the right team?” Craig asked, his top lip pulled back into a sneer.

Daniella’s eyes snapped up to meet Craig’s, and she began to cross the room toward him as she spoke. “You need to remain quiet,” she said aloud before reaching him and whispering into his ear. “The room is monitored. I’ll get you out of here somehow. Don’t worry.”

Craig’s eyebrows raised into an expression of surprise as she stepped back and then began scrolling through a nearby touchscreen, trying to appear busy as she considered her next move.

“It appears that our new elements are beginning to arrive,” the A.I. noted. “However, she’ll be hard pressed to get us out of here without weapons.”

Unexpectedly, the super soldier who had been guarding the door on the outside entered the room, his rifle drawn.

“Oh no,” Daniella whispered, her expression dripping with guilt.

The super soldier’s eyes seemed to be evaluating the doctor, but after a few moments, he turned to Craig.

“My,” the A.I. suddenly reacted, his tone surprised. “ Aldous Gibson. ”

“Aldous?” Craig repeated, gobsmacked at the A.I.’s assertion.

Aldous held his cybernetic prosthetic finger to his lips, indicating his desire for Craig to remain quiet.

“Aldous?” Daniella repeated. “Gibson?”

Aldous sighed before turning to Daniella. “It’s very unfortunate for you that you overheard that,” he noted as his hand began to spin, drill-like.

Daniella backpedaled quickly, stumbling into a workstation filled with equipment and reaching back to procure a scalpel, which she then held in front of her in defense.

“No!” Craig shouted, halting Aldous in his tracks. “We can trust her!”

Aldous regarded the scalpel with his ocular implants, and a faint smile crossed his lips. “Doctor, I will be transporting your prisoner now. Do you have a problem with that?”

“No, no. Of course not. Do what you have to.”

The drill stopped spinning. “Thank you,” Aldous replied as he stepped to Craig and began punching in the code to release the cuffs that secured Craig to the bed.

They snapped open, and Craig immediately grasped each wrist in turn, massaging them. “What the hell did you do to yourself?” Craig reacted to Aldous’s new, gruesome appearance. In every respect, he passed perfectly for a Purist super soldier.