Revenge of the chickens, p.13
Revenge of the Chickens, page 13
part #3 of Blocks Series
“Can you hear that?” Mina yelled.
The Van wasn’t its usual motionless self. It was tipping from side to side and there was a terrible ripping and rumbling noise. Struggling to keep his footing, Battery Boy raced out of the airlock room and up the stairs towards the console. Desperately, he tore his palms free of the cube and set it down on a square pad. Immediately, an empty horizontal bar appeared on the small console screen. Frantically, he keyed in the code to erase the journey log. The bar slowly started to fill: 10%, 20%, 30%.
“Look at the view-screen,” Tress shouted.
The big screen was full of writhing black snakes, lashing and hacking at the Van. The stars and everything else were completely obscured. Something fell off the dining table and smashed. Other items were crashing onto the floor and rolling around as the whole ship tilted one way and then the next.
Mina staggered and dropped to her knees. “They’re ripping it apart.”
Battery Boy checked the reset bar. It was making agonisingly slow progress. Only 60% complete.
“Why doesn’t this damn ship try to escape?”
Battery Boy checked his instructions. “It won’t leave and it won’t let us blow up the Gateway until the reset’s finished.”
“How long?”
Before Battery Boy could check, the whole ship lurched to one side sending them all sprawling and tumbling. The Van was filled with an awful screeching noise as its structure strained under the attack.
“The Van won’t last much longer. Tress should get into a suit,” Mina screamed, barely audible above the din of the Crawlers’ frenetic attack.
They didn’t have that much time. Battery Boy looked at his hands. His skin was visible through the many holes that had appeared in the white covering. His suit was disappearing. Hauling himself upright he lurched back towards the console. 99%. “Another few seconds, it’s nearly done.”
His paper-screen pinged at him. The munitions code had popped up. He banged the numbers in to the console.
The next moment the Van stuttered forward as if it was trying to break away from the Crawler swarm. A new timer started counting down. “We’re moving, just. The bomb’s armed. Detonation in… seven seconds. Grab hold of something.”
Battery Boy couldn’t see how there was enough time to escape the blast, not with the Crawlers holding them back. He slumped down and took hold of a chair base that was fixed to the floor. Luckily, Tress and Mina had heard his warning and were clinging on to a fixed piece of furniture. Their ship was being tossed around as if it were at sea in a storm. He glanced quickly at the main view-screen. Was it clearing? He thought he could see some stars past the tangle of lashing black limbs.
The ship jumped, fell back and started rolling. Battery Boy found himself hanging from the ceiling and being showered by debris. Mina and Tress were screaming as they clung on, dangling some two metres above the ceiling that was now their floor. Another convulsion gripped the ship, nearly breaking Battery Boy’s hold.
The painful crunching and grinding noises unexpectedly stopped. The ship slowly started rolling over, only stopping when the floor was back where it should be.
Battery Boy struggled to his feet. The main screen was clear. Ahead he could see the Earth. He reversed the view. A cloud of Crawlers were drifting aimlessly amongst a huge cloud of debris. The Gateway was gone. Battery Boy whooped and smashed his fist down on the console.
Mina and Tress lay in an untidy heap on the floor surrounded by the wreckage of the upended kitchen. Slowly, Tress got to her feet and helped Mina up. Mina’s white coating was in tatters. Tiny bits clung to her skin like confetti.
Mina stared at Battery Boy and then looked down at herself. Realising she was practically naked, Mina rushed away towards her bedroom. Self-consciously, Battery Boy crossed his hands in front of his crotch and decided he needed a shower and some clothes. As he and Mina departed Tress exploded into a coughing fit of giggles.
A while later, Battery Boy returned to find Tress clearing up. Mina arrived a moment later.
As soon as Tress noticed Battery Boy she ran over and hugged him. “You did it.” She released Battery Boy and ran towards Mina, “You both did. Thank you.”
Mina looked confused, “For what?”
Tress beamed and grabbed hold of Mina’s shoulders, “For keeping him safe.”
Slowly, Mina extracted herself from Tress’s embrace and retreated. She looked uncomfortable. Mina wouldn’t meet Tress’s or Battery Boy’s gaze.
Tress was undeterred and smiling broadly. “Come on, let’s get this place cleared up.”
Battery Boy and Mina joined Tress and together they brought some order back to their living area.
“What now?” Mina asked, when they settled around the dining table.
Battery Boy consulted his paper-screen. “The Van is programmed to take us to Central Park.”
Tress was grinning. “Fantastic. How long, before we land?”.
“A couple of hours. There’s some damage. The Van’s speed is limited. It’s carrying out repairs as we go.”
Mina frowned, “What about Block Seven?”
“When we land the Van will go dark, so it can’t be detected by any Vigilance that might turn up. We’ll need to activate it regularly to check for Block Seven or another Vigilance vessel. If it’s the Block, we have to dock the Van inside.”
No more was said for a while. Battery Boy guessed that his companions were still absorbing everything that had happened. It was hard to believe that in a short time they would be standing in the real Central Park, and not some ersatz construct inside the Ark. In a few hours he would finally be free of the Blocks, for the first time in his life. Only the thought of everyone left behind on the Ark and the billions still trapped in Block Seven dampened his excitement.
“We should talk about what happened in the Ark. Before we land.”
Battery Boy looked up from his paper-screen. It was Mina who’d spoken. His first thought was to leave and wait in his bedroom till they landed. He wasn’t interested in talking about the past. He said nothing.
“We should. There’s things me and Battery Boy have never talked about,” Tress added.
Battery Boy kept his silence. If they wanted to talk, he couldn’t stop them. He didn’t have to participate.
“I’ll begin,” Mina said, then paused and looked down at her bony brown hands lying on the table, as though she couldn’t look him in the eye. “Battery Boy wanted to fight, start a guerrilla movement, recruit people. You needed my help. You expected it.” Mina didn’t look up; her eyes were still locked on her hands.
It gave Battery Boy some comfort that at least she had acknowledged her betrayal.
She raised her head and met his gaze, “You didn’t understand, you were too young. Too fired up and angry.” She paused and shook her head. “I had a nervous breakdown, my will, my reasoning, they were all shattered. If I’d lost my legs or was dying of cancer, maybe you would have understood why I couldn’t fight anymore. You wouldn’t have asked me. But it was all up here, inside, hidden.” Mina tapped her forehead.
Battery Boy didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to say anything, to listen to her excuses or forgive her. Without her he had no chance of persuading the others, not even Tress. It was like they had all given up on the struggle. They arrived on Eden, had everything they wanted, despite the Giving, and just – settled down, accepting Eva’s rule. He had wandered the Ark for a while, desperately trying to convince anyone of the truth and recruit them to his revolution. It was useless. All he ever got were pitying looks and offers of help for his delusions.
Tress took his hand, “Everything fell apart then. We ignored what Stuff wanted, what he needed. At least Jugger and Pinkie made sure he was alright. I hated Mina for what she’d done to you. I tried to persuade you that it was useless to fight, we had to make the best of it. You wouldn’t listen. Then you went Outside, to build a life for yourself. I promised to come and join you when you were settled. You came back for me, years later. By then, I was happy in the Ark and there were all those stories about the Outside, the monsters, the disease, the hunger. I’d had enough of being frightened. The Ark might be a lie but it was peaceful and safe. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go Outside. And after that, I was never really happy in the Ark either.”
Battery Boy couldn’t speak. His cheeks were damp. Slowly he pushed his chair back, stood up and left for his own room. Maybe it was all true. Did it matter anymore? In less than two hours they’d be back on Earth, and they’d be alone. The last of the free.
Chapter Nine – Tuning Out
Truculent stared anxiously at the screen, praying that the most intelligent and capable AI ever created had made a stupid mistake. For nearly a cycle it had been secretly and intensively monitoring the Tuned and the Channels housed in the Great Shrine. It was trying to understand the mysterious relationship between the Tuned and the Channels. It had reached a conclusion; a conclusion so bizarre and frightening that Truculent had demanded proof.
He was looking at the image of a standard rectangle of blood in an invisible Shrine tray. Floating on the surface were numerous Channels. They bobbed about within a relatively small area keeping equidistant from each other, creating a symmetrical polka-dot pattern of white on red. It was a completely unremarkable sight. It could have been any one of the trillions of bloody rectangles in the Great Shrine. Truculent was about to turn away and happily berate the AI when he noticed an odd change. His chest tightened and suddenly his mouth was very dry. The Channels had started moving towards the centre of the tray, drawing closer and closer together, till there was a single mass of Channel bodies. The screen turned white and then black before the image reappeared. Truculent chewed at his lower lip. His hands were trembling. The tray was covered in bits of Channel, some of the pieces were smouldering and giving off white smoke. The agitated blood sloshed over the edges of the container. As little machines arrived to clear up the mess, Truculent turned away. He’d seen enough.
“Tell me again, this theory,” he croaked, he felt as if his mouth was full of sand and he found it hard to swallow.
“Emperor Cardinal the theory is very far from complete, and there are many aspects of the Tuned-Channel relationship which remain a mystery.”
Truculent wanted to strike the AI’s avatar, a pretty young woman dressed in a humble researcher’s blue jump suit. But the android wouldn’t care, it was just a dumb mouthpiece. He called it Thumper after the human girl he’d seen battle so hard in Tippese’s school. He’d made it look like her, or how he imagined she’d look if she’d lived into her late teens. The AI wasn’t the least bit interested in what the android looked like, or what Truculent chose to call it. Giving a powerful AI self-awareness and free-will was race suicide. The Vigilance had come across many advanced civilisations that hadn’t learned the lesson until it was too late. So there was absolutely no point in raising his voice or cursing. It had no feelings to hurt. Except that it made him feel a little better. “Just tell me, you damn moron, tell me everything.”
“As you suspected, the Tuned are not simple brain damaged individuals. They display subtle and unique brain activity that we theorise involves quantum pairing.”
It had been a long time since Truculent had studied physics. “Explain.”
“It is similar to the Travel Way, yet different. Much more advanced and there is no obvious technology facilitating the pairing.”
Truculent clenched his fists. “Explain. And keep it simple.”
“The quantum material of the Tuned’s brain is somehow linked to another mind.”
Even in his rage he knew better than to punch her. It would only break every bone in his hand. He slapped the machine. Thumper moved her head just enough to spare Truculent unnecessary pain and allow him some satisfaction. Surprisingly, it helped his mood. “What other mind? Where is it?”
“Unknown, but it could be anywhere.”
“Anywhere in the Shrine?”
“Anywhere in this universe, or perhaps another.”
“What? How can it communicate with something on the other side of the universe? It would take forever.”
“Quantum pairing allows the instantaneous transfer of information regardless of distance. Vigilance Travel Way technology has limits. This pairing method appears unlimited. Though, it is constrained to the transfer of mental states rather than the physical transfer of matter.”
Truculent clapped his hands together in frustration. “Forget all that. Why are the Channels exploding?”
“The Channels exhibit a similar quantum pairing ability. The Tuned is somehow controlling the Channels. The Tuned emit a continuous quantum signal. It appears to override normal Channel behaviour.”
“What’s normal for a Channel?”
“Full understanding will require more research. However, ancient texts suggest that the Channels were naturally solitary creatures. If they are kept in too close a proximity it triggers a population management instinct.”
“They explode.”
“Correct.”
“The Tuned control signal is very gradually weakening. So far, only a few of the Tuned in the outermost Sphere of the Great Shrine exhibit this behaviour. We are now able to monitor this and predict the impact. Hence our ability to anticipate where the next combustion will likely occur.”
It was this claim that had prompted Truculent to demand proof. He had been hoping the AI was wrong. The still smouldering mess in the blood tray was ample evidence that it wasn’t. “Implications? Consequences? Spit it out.”
“To be confident in any projection we would need to begin invasive examinations.”
Truculent’s gut jumped. Ordering the installation of secret monitoring equipment in every Great Shrine Refuge, might condemn him to Rung One. Allowing the AI to examine the data from a Tuned’s inner sanctum might condemn him to Rung One. All of it could be classed as an assault on the Tuned. Allowing the AI to physically examine a Tuned would most definitely condemn him to Rung One and it would be difficult to conceal. “No. Nothing invasive. Not yet. Guess, extrapolate. What are the implications?”
“The signal will continue to weaken. It is as if the remote minds are decoupling from the Tuned.”
“And?” Truculent bellowed.
“Only the Tuned signal allows the Channels to live in such close proximity. Eventually, all Channels will explode. All birthing will cease.”
Truculent tore the Channel hat from his head and threw it onto the floor. He threaded his fingers through his hair and screamed. It took a few moments for him to recover. “Confidence levels. Strategies,” he snapped.
Thumper didn’t answer immediately. Truculent didn’t know how to interpret the pause other than a lot of computing was going into the answers.
“Unknown. Unknown.”
Truculent brought his face very close to that of the android and bellowed, “By all the Gods, Thumper, why? Why is this happening?”
“Basic information is lacking. We know almost nothing about natural Channel behaviour. Natural husbandry of the Channels might be just as effective as reliance on the Tuned. Without invasive examination of the Tuned we cannot determine the speed with which the signal might fail. We need benchmark samples.”
“Samples?”
“Tuned brains.”
Truculent groaned. To go further would risk everything. “What’s the immediate impact.”
“Negligible, barely measurable. One part in a trillion.”
“Then why do anything? It could be temporary. A Tuned glitch.”
“That is one possibility.”
“Yes?”
“It could escalate exponentially within the next few moments. There is no way of knowing without further data. I have an information request.”
Truculent retrieved his battered hat and put it back on his head. It made him feel a little better. As though some modicum of order had been restored. “What information?”
“From our brief discussion, Eva and the Three could be important factors in the current situation. I should like access to all material related to both.”
“I’ll think about it. That’s all.”
Despite all his suspicions, aeons of culture, history and religiosity weighed on the Emperor Cardinal. Once, he had threatened to throw the Tuned occupied by Eva out of an airlock. That was an entirely different matter. There was provocation, and she obviously wasn’t a High Angel. The original Eva-possessed Tuned was still alive and occupied the Refuge at the very centre of the Great Shrine. After Eva left it, for the clone body of a warrior princess, it never spoke again, never so much as twitched a limb. Could he really order the cutting open of a living, innocent, holy Tuned? Maybe Eva was nothing to do with the Tuned. Maybe the AI was wrong. He wasn’t ready, not yet, to commit the ultimate desecration.
Truculent lay face down, prostrate. He felt humiliated, angry and frightened. For the first time the Cardinals had insisted on a specific question being put to the Tuned. And the Conclave, the twelve Cardinals and Harder, were watching everything. Normally, he could persuade the Cardinals to ask the questions he wanted to answer. Harder was usually supportive, or said nothing. He’d remained silent this time. The question was one Truculent didn’t want asked.
The randomly selected Tuned was one of those occupying the Refuges in the outer Sphere, and the source of all his problems. It looked no different to any other in its formal consultation gown. The Gods’ representative lay unmoving on the circular bed. Its loose lips hung open, glistening with saliva. Its dead, unfocussed eyes stared into the distance. Without raising his head Truculent spoke.
“High Angel Tuned, we are greatly troubled by the spreading Channel Blight. What would you have us do?”
Truculent stayed quiet and waited. He wasn’t expecting an answer; he’d already devised a soothing narrative which he hoped would buy him more time. A loud harsh noise jolted Truculent, almost knocking him off his stomach trolley. He looked up. The Tuned had made the sound. Its mouth was stretched wide. Its chin was damp with spit. Nothing else had changed. It lay on the bed, unmoving. Truculent gasped when it made the noise again. It wasn’t saying anything he could understand but the ugly sound was disturbingly familiar. His throat tightened. His insides fell. He remembered. The Tuned he had visited just before he’d witnessed the first Channel tray explosion had made the same noise. The damn things were laughing at him.
