Paul Hardy - The Last Man on Earth Club

“My offer is contingent upon the creation of a military. I am aware it does not currently exist.”

“Okay… but consider this. If the IU formed a military, there would still be a number of barriers to you volunteering. First of all: you’re not an IU citizen. You’re under the care of the IU, but that does not make you a citizen. I don’t think we’re likely to let people fight for us unless they have citizenship, or they’re volunteering from an IU member species.”

“I am prepared to risk my life in defence of the Interversal Union.”

“Perhaps. But any release from this centre depends on the success of your therapy. At the moment I don’t think it’s likely that I’m going to allow you to put yourself at risk when you’ve experienced severe psychological and medical trauma.”

“The persona will not emerge again.”

“No?”

“I have taken steps to ensure the persona will not emerge again.”

“This is something I’d like to discuss. I mean the whole business with Elsbet. Do you remember anything about what happened?”

“No. It is irrelevant.”

“She accused you of war crimes.”

“She is mistaken.”

“We’re going to have to investigate, when we get a moment.”

“An investigation is unnecessary.”

“Were you really an infiltrator?”

Katie paused for a long time.

“Yes.”

“They took you into their hospital, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“And then you attacked.”

“Yes.”

“You killed everyone in the hospital.”

“Yes.”

“Including civilians. Including children.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

She looked at me with a moment’s confusion, as though unable to understand why I needed to ask the question. “They would not negotiate. They would not communicate. They only declared their intent to extinguish us from the system. We had no other way to strike back. The primary target was the shipyards. Other casualties were impossible to avoid.”

“I see.”

“It was an act of war.”

“You’re not the first person to say that.”

“I will not discuss it further.”

“Katie—”

“I will not discuss it further.”

Her face was twitching again. I sighed.

“Okay. Let me go back to something else: you say she won’t be emerging again?

“Yes.”

“Does this have anything to do with your tremors?”

“I suffer no tremors.” And yet her mouth twitched, and her hand shook.

“It’s happening right now, Katie.”

“I am in complete control of all functions.”

“You’re not in control at the moment. I can see it happening,” I said, indicating her unruly hand.

She slammed a look at me and snarled: “I could rip your head from your shoulders.”

I froze for a moment. I’ve been threatened before, but not by a cybernetic killing machine.

“Do I need to call security?” I asked, swallowing back the animal fear in my gut.

The twitching intensified for a moment. And then her face relaxed again and resumed its placid stare.

“There is no need. I am in control.”

“Are you having more emotional disturbances?”

“Yes. I am in control.”

“Are you sure? You’ve never threatened anyone before.”

“I am in control.” Muscles around her eyes quivered for a moment, then lay still.

I sighed. “Katie, if these tremors are what you’re doing to yourself to stay in control, you’re only going to hurt yourself. You know your condition is terminal. Please. Let us help you.”

“I do not require assistance.”

“Can you give me a good reason why?”

“I must remain operational.”

“But why?”

Her blank stare was chilling.

“They are coming back.”

“Who’s coming back?”

“My species.”

“I think that needs explaining.”

“There were expeditions to nearby star systems that travelled at the highest possible speeds but had only reached their first target stars after two hundred years of journey time. They were informed in the final signals from Earth of the progress of the war and will return in due course.”

“In two hundred years?”

“Yes. And then the Fourth Machine War will begin.”

“Katie, you’re not going to last two hundred days . And you’re in the wrong universe. How do you think you’re going to help?”

“I require transfer to an artificial means of consciousness.”

“That’s not happening, Katie.”

A smile twitched around her mouth.

“I… I would be able to assist the Interversal Union greatly if I had an artificial consciousness.” She kept up her smile. She was trying to be friendly, in a rather creepy kind of way.

“That’s illegal on Hub. And that’s definitely not going to change.”

“I don’t want anything in return…” she said in something like a little girl voice, pleading for a toy.

“And we respectfully decline. You’re not fit for duty. You’re suffering from neural degradation and you’re going to die without our help. Katie, I’ll ask again: let us help you before it’s too late.”

The friendly look vanished.

“There is nothing further to discuss.”

She rose and left with no further courtesy.

Kwame’s reaction to the new centre was one of complete avoidance. After a façade of relative normality on the journey over, he retreated into his room and did not emerge for a full day. Once he hadn’t shown up for a couple of meals, I went in to see what I could do.

He was exactly where he’d been when I left him on the day of the attack: sitting in the corner, knees drawn up, lost elsewhere.

“Kwame?” He didn’t answer. “Are you in there?”

He looked up at me slowly.

“I… do not know.”

I sat down in the heavy wooden chair he kept at his desk.

“I thought you were making some progress.”

“No.”

“Has something happened?”

“I remember.”

“What do you remember, Kwame?”

“I remember my dreams. I did not know how I was… protected.” He spat the last word out, bitterly.

“What do you dream about?”

He looked up at me, horrified and distraught. “The same! Every night I have the same dream! It has not changed!”

“The dream about the cell?”

“Every night I condemn that… creature … to death. And I feel as though I am killing the one I love. As though that thing were my wife. And I remember!”

“What do you remember?”

“When I… kissed… him .”

“Iokan?” He gave me the barest nod. “Do you remember anything else?”

“I…”

He sat there, lost in memory.

“Kwame?”

“I remember… things.”

“Can you tell me anything?”

“I do not understand them…”

“Just start with one. Any one.”

He took a breath. “I… I remember a lecture hall. Someone talks with a strange accent… demonstrates something on the bench, something robotic… I never studied robotics! I took history. Electronics was a hobby, nothing more! And I remember… being a child, running with gangs, robbing drunks. But I never did that! I was in a private school! My father made sacrifices so I had an education… and, and… I see a bar in Matongu, with men dressed as women…” He trembled. “I have never been to Matongu. What is happening to me?”

This was a very good question. Strange psychological phenomena do crop up when you deal with different human species whose psychology is not fully understood, but I’d never seen anything quite like this before.

“I think… I think at the moment, Kwame, you’re feeling lost, like you haven’t got a map…”