The Archytas Page 8

  Carter knew that his species were now more prepared than ever, especially after such an event in their past. Now times were better, they had self-sufficiency to a point; with the Sol-ship over-charged, they could adapt to anywhere, last longer than ever before.

  From the Observation Deck, Carter stared in awe as the thin white outline around the planet quietly vanished into a cloud of blackness; now left behind, like the ship. Forever gone.

  41

  “Sleep well?” asked a voice above Grace.

  The first thing she noticed about the man was his beard. A huge beard all over his face. He can’t have shaved for years. The second thing she noticed was that he was eating an apple.

  “Not so well,” said Grace.

  “The first few days are tough, but it gets easier. Oh, sorry, I should introduce myself, Jack. You can call me Jack, all my friends do. Are you hungry?”

  Jack extended his arm, offering Grace a bite of his half-eaten apple.

  “I’m fine, thanks,” said Grace, as she checked her pocket and felt for the outline of her knife. Next, she reached into one of her bags, pulled out a cigarette and a box of matches, and proceeded to light up.

  “So, you didn’t tell me your name,” said Jack.

  “Ah, Ruby, my name is Ruby,” said Grace.

  “Pleasure to meet you,” a smile formed beneath his cluster of beard. “I have to ask, how did a beautiful young woman like yourself end up on the streets?”

  Grace was not sure if it was better to lie, or just tell the truth. The man, Jack, he did not offer aggression in her way, and seemed friendly enough. She opted for a half-truth.

  “I’m running away,” she told him. “I had a fight with my boyfriend and decided to run away. He tried to kill me. I had to escape.”

  “I see, that sounds terrible. Do you have anywhere in particular you’re escaping to?”

  “Not really,” said Grace, taking a long drag on her cigarette. “Until the streets end, I suppose.”

  The homeless man laughed, “And what makes you think that they end?”

  “They’ve got to end somewhere, everything ends, right?”

  “Well, maybe, but I doubt it’s what you’re expecting.”

  “How so?”

  “I heard only rumours, that beyond the sky there is an ocean. An endless ocean. Ever wondered why it is so wet here, why it rains four days out of five. We are surrounded by water. Our streets offer nothing but a comfortable place to live, everything else is ocean. Beyond the ocean, well, if you can swim, can you swim, Grace?”

  “I don’t think so,” she said. “Can anyone swim?”

  “I doubt it,” said Jack.

  “But I can always learn.”

  “Great, learn how to swim, cross the ocean, and beyond it, you’ll find the people running the show. The politicians. Those drones, power hidden behind digitally rendered faces, the ones that control everything we do here. They are beyond the ocean. They won’t let you join them, they live in harmony. A perfect plan to keep us in order. They are working together, there’s probably less than you think. Perhaps just two or three people in power, the rest are just faces.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Not sure, I just know that they wake me up with their electronic boards, they wake up the people that live on the streets, the same people that have lost their power to vote. It’s a little ironic don’t you think? If they are beyond the ocean, please kill them, Grace, for the sake of us all.”

  “I like to think there’s more than just an ocean and politicians. That would be so miserable if it were true.”

  “Like I told you,” said Jack, pausing to bite into his apple, “it’s only what I heard from some of the others. I suppose nobody really knows for sure.”

  “Well, it was very nice to meet you,” said Grace, rising to her feet. “I must keep moving now, I don’t want anyone to catch up with me.”

  “Alright,” said Jack, “good luck with your journey, I hope that I’m wrong, that something better really does exist.”

  “Thank you, Jack,” she said, as she waved him a last goodbye.

  As Grace walked away, she felt disappointed. There had to be more than water, had to be. She would continue on her journey, see for herself, find out the truth, and find that better place worth living.

  42

  “Good morning, Carter.”

  Carter turned in his bed and saw Yudar standing in his room.

  “Morning,” said Carter, wiping the dust from his eyes. “I thought I wouldn’t see you for a few more years.”

  Only two days had passed since Carter and Yudar last met. Carter climbed out of bed and poured himself a glass of water.

  “You want a drink?”

  “I am fine, thank you,” replied Yudar. “I wanted to tell you what happened. Do you have time?”

  “I do. I have a lot of time.”

  “Good,” said Yudar.

  “I have a question. Room 2774, was that you?”

  “It was; my sense of humour.”

  “I thought so,” said Carter. “Anyway, tell me about the birds.”

  “May I?” asked Yudar, motioning toward a chair.

  “Sure,” said Carter, nodding, as Yudar sat.

  “We were watching Terra from Fornax, observing. We had watched the human species for thousands of years, documenting everything in the historical recordings you know as your dreams. We watched them fight, destroy, kill, suffer, torture. We watched as they learnt, evolved, made discoveries, advanced. We were all fascinated by the speed in which they progressed and regressed simultaneously. They would get things right and at the same time, they would do things horribly wrong. They invented religion only to fight wars about it. They invented weapons to kill each other and ignored all logic. They used slaves throughout their history without a single shred of sympathy. They lacked basic cordiality. However, they had something we did not have, energy. We did not know what powered their planet, what it was that they were using. Something hidden beneath the surface. Completely out of sight.

  “They sent us to investigate. When we entered their atmosphere, they fired on us. They captured us, took us in and used us as slaves. This was in 2774, right before the birds. I was banished to the underground, made to generate power so that the covetous humans could live comfortable lives. A man helped me though, when I first arrived. He listened to my stories and agreed to take me to meet their leader. I told a few stories about religion. I covered my own tracks to protect our species. I told him what I knew about their God. I knew their lies but went along with it. It was a risky plan but I needed to determine what generated their energy.

  “Eventually, I got inside, as a slave, to turn a machine that provided for their capital. I studied the machine every day. I obeyed and followed orders and studied. But, I needed to get deeper. I could not do anything else, I had to keep grinding away until eventually something took me away from that place.

  “On the Two-of-Hearts-4 2774, a young man named Justin Jenkins built a pigeon. An artificially intelligent bird designed to rid the planet of food. It was an incredible creation. It was primarily programmed to destroy plants, but, it was also designed to proliferate. To find materials and to create copies of itself. It soon adapted to intelligence and built a second pigeon in its own image, with the same information, memories, programming; hive minded. Those birds soon began to multiply, until after a few short days, there were hundreds. After two cards, thousands.

  “The birds continued to destroy plants, their numbers continued to increase, then, for whatever reason, they did something unexpected. Something I do not believe Justin Jenkins had anticipated. They murdered. They killed some farmers and created artificial versions of those same farmers.

  “Those birds and farmers continued to multiply, continued to destroy the plants, the food sources, and the farms. It was the biggest decimation of life in the history of Terra, and it happened so quickly.

  “The leaders got scared. They tried fir
st to defend against the birds. They released slaves to fight. Built walls. Fired missiles. But, they could not control it. There were too many birds and not enough time.

  “I was taken from slavery and interrogated. They wanted to know about our species. They asked many questions. Wanted my help. I needed to return home to Fornax. I did not want to end my time on Terra. I agreed to take them with me, the humans. I agreed to help.

  “We took six ships. All of the important people on that planet, carried away on six large ships bound for Fornax. When we reached Neptune, there was an event. Our species had arrived in the Sol System on a rescue mission, on their way to Terra to retrieve me. Just outside Despina, we thought we had an advantage, that they had nothing comparable to our own firepower. Our species also knew which of the six ships I was captive on, although I was not exactly treat like a prisoner.

  “After a stalemate in space, we eventually fired at their ships. What we did not expect was their retaliation. They had weapons that even after observing them for thousands of years we did not know they had. They fought back. I was almost killed, but the same man that helped me when I first arrived on Terra protected me. He saved my time and for that I am ever grateful.

  “The battle was short. Somehow, I was rescued. Ships were destroyed. Lives were lost for the humans and time took many of us. I wondered, why go to such an effort, why lose so much over just one person, why save me? I thought they should have just let me go, forgotten about me, but they did not. Our species persevered to save me, at the loss of so many others.

  “When I finally arrived home, they wanted answers. I discovered why I was so critical to the mission. I learnt then that our species, like the planet, would slowly end. We did not have a renewable energy source. Our planet did not have long left, we had already put into place measures to leave.

  “We were not prepared for their weaponry, and from what I told my captors, they knew where our planet was. It would only be a matter of time before those left on Terra regrouped and attacked us. If they had such powerful weapons we did not know about, then what else? We were under threat, so we abandoned Fornax for somewhere new.

  “We had plans, we had other planets within our reach, we could use them, drain them of their resources. Prepare, then move on. What Terra had was probably not what we thought, not worth fighting for. We continued to monitor the humans for a while, watched as all the crops disappeared. We considered going back, but were not sure what they had hidden underground. Cities, weapons, leaders, generators, slaves, we did not know where it ended. We assessed the risks and decided to leave.

  “And this is where we are now. Still searching for that energy source that can sustain us forever, and as far away from Terra and Fornax as we have ever been.”

  “I remember some of those things,” said Carter, “I remember the Despina Massacre, the human ships being picked off one by one. I remember the slaves, fighting against the birds. But, I still don’t understand.”

  “Which part?” asked Yudar.

  “An event occurred involving birds. They destroyed crops. I understand this much. But, why are they important to my dreams. They sound like they are just a small part of a much bigger story. Another irrelevant part.”

  “That might be true, for now. Wait a few thousand years, and I will hopefully be able to answer that.”

  “A few thousand years?”

  “Yes. When we reach our destination.”

  “The next habitable?”

  “The anomaly.”

  43

  Justin dropped his rake to the floor; it clattered as it hit the soil before settling down, never to be touched again.

  He began walking, unhurried, to where his farm ended and Tony Scargille’s farm began.

  Reaching the boundary, he saw the other members of the Farmers' Alliance standing around raking the soil.

  “Hello, Justin,” said Tony Scargille.

  “Hello,” replied Justin.

  “They’re only pigeons, you know that now. Only pigeons,” said Bruce Margrave.

  “That’s right, nothing to worry about, now you come out of there boy, you come out right now,” said Mrs Applegate, dropping her rake to the ground as she approached the boundary.

  “Hello, Justin,” Tony Scargille repeated.

  “But what about my cabbages?” shouted Mr Jones.

  “We aren’t going to hurt you,” said Bruce Margrave, “we just want to talk.”

  Justin did not understand what was happening. He turned around and walked back toward his farmhouse, but felt no desire to enter. A wave of confusion passed over him, lingering as it did for the briefest of moments. He thought again about that other him, sitting there with a hole in the back of his head. He thought about his dead grandfather. He wondered what was happening, whether something bad had happened to his birds, and why there were scraps and metal all over his farm.

  He walked, as if being guided by nothing in particular, from his farm, toward the city of Utopia.

  On his way to the capital, he passed dead bodies in ragged loincloths. He saw pigeons in pairs flying together. He watched the duos of pigeons crossing paths, stopping as if communicating, before continuing with their flight. He saw no plants, no flowers, and no life; only death, destruction, and the sad remains of what once was.

  He had done this. He had created this mess, and it should have made him smile, but it did not. He felt no emotions. He felt nothing but the same empty feeling he had experienced when he saw his own dead body.

  It would take him a day on foot to reach the capital, but Justin felt no hunger, no tiredness. He wondered if he was indeed dead, existing now as just a ghostly outline of his former self.

  He tried to recall his first ever memory. It eventually came, a fireworks show. He was watching from a small fishing boat on a lake. Watching with his father, the blend of reds marrying greens beneath the night sky of autumn, the reflections offering a spectacular display of light against a heavy backdrop of darkness.

  Justin thought about fish. He had never seen a fish. They were long gone. People tried to search the water for them, he remembered how he tried to catch a fish but there were none left. The planet had consumed all of them. He was sad at the time, but not anymore. He could not feel the sadness, but he remembered it.

  As he continued cross-country, one foot after another, he thought consciously about how he was walking. What was it that was moving his body? A thought? He kept moving forward, but could not understand why or how. Something deeper and beyond any knowledge. He questioned as to whether he even controls movement at all. He just knew, but would never remember when he learnt.

  Justin walked in silence for a time, free from thought, before the image of fireworks filled his memory once again. A happy memory, one that he would never forget.

  44

  A week had passed since Grace left. She had encountered many homeless on the streets. One thing that surprised her was just how friendly they all were. Mostly men, mostly happy and content with their lives. She had never realised it before, but the homeless were the happiest people she had met. They had nothing, but they somehow survived.

  Of the stories she had heard, some were more bizarre than others. One man had told her that a war had broken out beyond the wall. Not an ocean, but a wall, built to keep everyone safe. It was a chemical war; people lost their skin, their faces. The air was no longer breathable.

  Another story was about birds, millions of them. They ate all of the food and forced everyone to live inside a vast city.

  With each story Grace heard, the more ridiculous they sounded. Chemicals, oceans, and birds, she did not know what to believe.

  Grace needed nothing more than a drink and a good night of rest. She would keep walking until it got dark, and find a bar near a hotel. She desperately needed to shower, having not washed for a week she began to sense the foul smell lingering on her person.

  That night, Grace used some credits to book a small room in a cheap hotel. After taking a sh
ower, she methodically concealed her possessions in various different places in the room, before heading out to search for a place to drink.

  It did not take her long to find a bar, there were neon lights everywhere advertising all kinds of services, including alcohol. She entered a tiny establishment called Raven’s Way, a small bar with an old woman as master. It had just five barstools, and was essentially a corridor cut into the side of a large apartment building. Jazz music played from a small device in the corner. Grace had the choice of seats; the bar was completely empty other than the old woman. She chose the stool nearest to the door, offering a quick escape if she needed one.

  “Beer please,” said Grace.

  The old woman gave Grace a toothless smile, poured her a beer, and placed it on the counter.

  “This one’s on me, dear,” the woman said, “it looks like you’ve had a rough day.”

  “Thank you, more like a rough week,” said Grace, lighting up a cigarette.

  “Don’t get so many visitors this close to the wall, what brings you so far out?”

  “The wall?”

  “Yeah, the wall.”

  “I came here to find where the streets end. Are you saying there’s a wall, a way out of here?”

  “It’s about three hours walk from here. It’s where the food comes in.”

  “Have you ever been beyond the wall, been outside?”

  “Never, I wouldn’t risk it, and you shouldn’t either. I heard of people choosing to leave. But not once did they come back. I just let it do its job. Things come in through the wall, that’s all.”

  “But what if there’s a paradise on the other side? A better life than this horror we call existence?”